


Many Ways to Say 'I Love You'

by nu-exo (Nekohime)



Series: Sometimes, being a hero is hard [1]
Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Spider-Man Fusion, Honestly pretty soft, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Underage Drinking, one of the many spidey aus i want to write, spider!Mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekohime/pseuds/nu-exo
Summary: “It’s snowing!”Mark let out a disgruntled grunt, hopping around on one foot as he tried to peel himself out out of his super suit, a puddle of cold slush and melted snow forming under his feet.  “Yeah, I know.”
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery
Series: Sometimes, being a hero is hard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648399
Comments: 44
Kudos: 170
Collections: NCT Rarepair Winter Bingo





	1. Sophomore Year

**Author's Note:**

> This is an au I've fully fallen in love with, and part one overall of a greater spiderverse au in the works. The rating will likely change in the future, when that happens, I'll mark the chapters for those interested in reading non-explicit parts.
> 
> Originally for the first snow + blizzard + and movie marathon tiles for rare pair winter bingo.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Hendery burst into their dorm room with a bang and a smile.

“It’s snowing!”

Mark let out a disgruntled grunt, hopping around on one foot as he tried to peel himself out out of his super suit, a puddle of cold slush and melted snow forming under his feet. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh shit!”

Hendery kicked the door shut behind him, dropping his bag with a heavy _thunk_ that had Mark wincing. He was almost a hundred percent sure the other boy’s laptop was in there. Hendery didn’t pay it any mind, though, coming over to help Mark with a small frown of concentration, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Here,” he held out his hand, grip firm as Mark gladly accepted it, helping him balance so he could reach down to yank his suit the rest of the way off. It left Mark in nothing but his boxers, but he’d been caught in this state often enough by now that he couldn’t bring himself to feel properly embarrassed anymore. Hendery bit back a smile, and Mark pretended not to notice. “Better?”

Mark rolled out his neck and stretched his arms overhead, sighing in satisfaction when his back popped, feeling Hendery’s eyes roving over his body and willing his skin not to flush red. He couldn’t keep up the pretense of not realizing it if he reacted to it.

“Much,” he sighed, side-stepping Hendery to grab a pair of sweats and a hoodie off his bed. “Baekhyun hyung designed the suit to be a lot of things, but warm in the face of snow it is _not_.”

Hendery snorted, plopping down in his desk chair and rolling closer. “I bet. It doesn’t look particularly warm.” His amused smile turned lopsided, a foreboding twinkle sparking in his eye. He gave Mark a teasing once over, eyebrow cocking. “Doesn’t leave much to the imagination in the first place.”

Mark groaned, chucking a pillow at him. Not with enough force or speed to hurt, but just enough to have Hendery ducking with a gleeful cackle.

“You’re awful,” Mark complained.

“I’m wonderful,” Hendery retorted. “How many other people would’ve reacted the way I did if they found out their new roommate was Spider-Man?”

“What?” Mark huffed, “By fainting in shock and then asking for _another hero’s_ autograph first thing when you woke up?”

“Oh, because you didn’t geek out when you met Iron Man the first time?” Hendery defended. “And it’s a perfectly normal thing to ask for in that situation. Don’t judge.”

“Wha- I- You- Sure,” Mark finally settled on, flustered into stammering because Hendery wasn’t wrong but hearing him point it out wasn’t any less mortifying. It was bad enough Baekhyun didn’t let him live it down, he didn’t need the boy he was crushing on bringing up his fanboy roots too. “Whatever you say.”

Hendery smiled wide, eyes pressing up into crescents. Mark’s heart gave a kick in his chest. Sometimes it hurt how cute Hendery could be.

“So,” Hendery spun himself in small semi-circles, “what I was gonna suggest when I first came in, since it’s the first snow of the year and all, was that we could maybe go out to the little park nearby and have some fun before the snow turns to dirty water…”

A smile twitched at Mark’s lips, his body unconsciously leaning forward, like a sunflower towards the sun. “But?’

“But you’ve obviously been out in it already, saving the day and fighting crime, so maybe we can do something else to celebrate!”

“Celebrate the first snow,” Mark deadpanned, as if he hadn’t given in and gone out with Hendery to do just that last year, too stunned by the bright smile that had been thrown his way to do anything but.

“Not everyone is from the arctic like you,” Hendery sniffed, “Snow is still nice for some of us.”

Mark laughed. “Whatever you say Cali boy.”

Hendery aimed an ineffectual kick at his shin. It wasn’t going to hit, wasn’t even going to reach, but Mark was feeling bold—still running on an adrenaline high from swinging through the streets as Spider-Man—and so he caught it, fingers closing warm and firm around the delicate bones of Hendery’s ankle.

Hendery, caught off guard, blinked up at him. Mark met his gaze, a strange sort of bravery driving him as he stroked a shy thumb over Hendery’s skin, smiling all the while. Bold, very, very bold.

“We could still go out,” he said, heart in his throat, “I don’t mind. Running around in my spidey suit isn’t the same as going out fully bundled.”

Hendery was looking at him with wide eyes, a faint flush dusting his cheeks. “Sure.” He cleared his throat, fiddling his fingers in his lap. “Maybe we could go to the little Asian market on 10th, get some snacks and ramen for a movie night? Since it’s the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me!” Mark dropped Hendery’s foot, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck and staining his ears. Lucas would be proud of him. Donghyuck would call him weak. “Let me put on an extra layer and then we can go?”

“Yeah,” Hendery chirped, voice an octave higher than normal. “Yeah, cool, that sounds good. I’ll just,” he gestured vaguely towards the door, getting up and almost immediately tripping over his own feet, straightening up with a flustered smile, “hah, wait outside then.”

Mark watched him scurry out with a faint air of amusement, all the while hoping his gremlin of a cousin and mess of a friend hadn’t steered him wrong.

🕸️

They end up stopping at the little park Hendery had wanted to go to. No one was out in this weather, not even the most daring of children dragging along their beleaguered parents. It was just Mark and Hendery running around, giggling, shoving each other into growing piles of snow.

The two of them decide to go back to the dorms only after Hendery sneezed right in Mark’s face where he had Hendery pinned to the ground, the biting cold of the snow seeping in where their clothes were damp. 

“Sorry,” Hendery squeaked out, mortified, gloved hands coming up to cover his mouth, eyes comically wide.

Mark, far less put-off than he should’ve been, snorted, eyes crinkling up into a helplessly fond smile. “C’mon, lets get back before you get sick just in time for the holidays.”

Hendery made a high, whining sound, whole face steadily turning red, but didn’t fuss as Mark pulled him up with a hand on his arm and waist.

By the time Mark and Hendery were stumbling back through their dorm building’s doors, stomping their boots against the black rain mats, the first snow of the year had turned into a full blown blizzard. Hendery’s jacket—a thick, white thing with a high collar and low hanging hood—kept him from the brunt of it, leaving only his now pink nose visible before he shoved his hood back to shake out his hair. Mark’s jacket, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as effective. 

“For someone who’s from Canada,” Hendery started, laughing at the bedraggled state of Mark’s entire being, “you don’t really have region appropriate gear, do you?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, teeth chattering. “I didn’t think I’d need my heavy coat.”

Hendery shook his head, smile teasing. “A shame, truly. How do you even survive up north in the arctic?”

“Just fine, thank you very much,” Mark said, a reluctant, lopsided smile sliding onto his lips as he bumped their shoulders together, not stepping away.

“I bet you shiver your way through it,” Hendery grinned, not stepping away away either, leaving them to walk pressed side by side, hands brushing.

“I don’t even do that here,” Mark pouted, trying his best to ignore how every touch of skin and warmth had a pleasant shiver running down his spine and butterflies rampaging in his belly. “Well, usually.”

Hendery snorted softly, ducking his head, fringe falling into his eyes. “Sure Lee, whatever you say.”

🕸️

Hendery bundled Mark up in warm pajamas and a pile of blankets (“Because even superheroes need some taking care of!” And really, Mark hadn’t had anything to say to _that_.) shedding out of his own winter clothes after, hanging up the damp stuff and tossing the rest into a pile to be dealt with later.

“Netflix, Prime, or 123movies?” he asked, joining Mark on his bed—their designated movie watching spot by virtue of it being nearest to an outlet plug.

Mark shrugged, snuggling closer in what he hoped wasn’t an obvious cuddle-seeking ploy. “Not picky, we can scroll through Netflix and Prime to see if we find anything. Otherwise we can rewatch something.”

Hendery nodded, smiling, shifting around to get more comfortable also, curling towards Mark in a way Mark hoped— _prayed_ —was intentional. “Sounds good to me.”

🕸️

Halfway through their third movie—a rewatch of Ocean’s 13 since they’d managed to find 11 and 12—Mark’s phone buzzed with a news alert.

“Wha’s up?” Hendery mumbled, cheek mushed against Mark’s shoulder. He lifted himself up, squinting at Mark’s face in the dark when he didn’t immediately answer. “What’s wrong?”

Mark sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “High speed chase in progress.”

“In this weather?” Hendery asked incredulously. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Unfortunately I’m not.” Mark let his head fall back against the pillows, just breathing for a minute, eyes closed. “Apparently even blizzards don’t deter criminals.”

Hendery frowned, moving his laptop and sitting up properly. “You’re not...going, are you?”

Mark blinked open his eyes, rolling his head so he could meet Hendery’s gaze. He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips. Hendery’s hair was smushed on one side, soft skin of his cheek red and imprinted with the stitching of Mark’s hoodie. He looked soft. Disapproving and concerned, but soft.

Mark was in love.

“Who else will if I won’t?”

Hendery pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes narrowed. It was the type of displeased expression Mark had seen used on his friends to varied degrees of effect, almost always the prelude to a physical outburst that left Hendery wrestling Dejun or Yangyang—a recent but fun addition to their group—to the ground. 

Mark wondered vaguely if Hendery would try that with him, now, even knowing Mark could outpower him and then some. Mark didn’t think he’d mind all that much if he did.

“Baekhyun?” Hendery tried, though his tone said he’d already accepted that their night was about to be cut short. “He’s a whole hero with an expensive super suit.”

“Date night with Jongdae in Prague.” Mark sat up and scooted closer, legs coming up around Hendery’s. Intimate. A risk. “It’s just me.”

Hendery blew out a puff of air, ruffling his bangs. “Well. This sucks.”

Mark snorted. “I’ll be back lickity-split. Promise.”

At that Hendery let out the most put upon groan, rolling his eyes with an intensity that would’ve impressed even Donghyuck. He shoved at Mark’s chest even though he was the one who ended up rocking back.

“You know what? Never mind. You can just,” he waved his hands at Mark, prodding with his socked feet too when Mark started cackling, “I don’t need to hear your old man-isms this late at night.”

“Aw,” Mark cooed, clambering over him to slide off the bed, going to grab his super suit from where it’d been left to dry. “But you love my old man-isms. They’re the bees-knees.”

“I hate you,” Hendery snorted, propping his cheek on his fist as he watched Mark hop from foot to foot trying to wriggle into his suit, eyes hooded and smile lazy, “I really do.”

“Love you too,” Mark sing-songed, emboldened with his mask on to cover the way he was blushing a furious red. He crossed their room with easy strides, cracking open one of the windows just enough to slide himself out, but not enough for the snow and wind to bluster its way in. “If you’re still up when I get back, we can keep watching.” Mark cleared his throat, picking nervously at the fortified material of his suit. Bless Baekhyun and his habit of overdoing things. “I—I’m not saying you should wait up,” he stammered, the first true break in his cool all evening, because of course he’d eventually crack, “but, you know, if you’re up.”

Hendery smiled at him, waved. “Breathe, Mark. I know what you meant.” He paused, seeming to mull something over, tasting how the words might taste on his tongue. “Stay safe, Spider-Man. Come home, yeah?”

Mark let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, smiling, his lenses thinning to convey the expression. “I always do.”


	2. Freshman Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark loved fall. The city air turned crisp despite the crowds, stores were decked out with their first round of holiday themed treats, and when he was tossed to the ground after being bounced off a billboard like a human sized ping-pong ball, sometimes, depending on what Mother Nature and global warming decided, he got to land in snow drifts instead of piles of garbage. Sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the excitement of posting I forgot to include a HUGE thank you to all my friends who helped me get this finished, both in fandom and irl. Any, Mon, Anne, Yaya, Shauna, Negi: this fic really grew and changed for the better thanks to all of you!! It was going to be a small set of drabbles in my original plans, and now it's grown into something so much more amazing!! Also to Anna and Chelsie, thank you for reading over my fics despite not being actively in nct fandom ;__; ily all ♡

Freshman year of college was, to put it simply, _terrifying_.

Mark felt out of place in the worst way, body still on the gangly side, still growing, about to live in dorms for the first time, far enough from his parents to cause separation anxiety. Oh, and then, of course, there were the powers. And the superhero alter ego that quickly followed. That definitely didn’t help.

Couldn’t really work on fitting in with the college experience when you spent your off-time running around as everybody’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

A month in, though, and things were going mostly okay. Mostly.

Classes were rough, more because of Mark’s moonlighting as a hero than the actual academics (though the lectures—particularly staying awake in them—were plenty difficult on their own). The people he’d met so far were nice. The food wasn’t bad. The highlight, though, by far, had to be his roommate.

Mark had been worried about sharing a room with a stranger, but Hendery? Hendery was _great_. 

“My friend and I had been planning to room together,” he’d explained while moving around their new home for the upcoming year, unpacking and settling in to the… _intimate_ space of their dorm room, “But he missed the submission deadline so,” he set a small, tightly packed box down with a huff and turned to Mark with a shy little smile, “hope we can get along!”

 _“Getting along”_ , would be putting how well they hit it off mildly. They shared a taste for co-op gaming, music, and organized messes, falling into an easy, comfortable harmony with startling ease, never even bickering over the sometimes-clean sometimes-disastrous state of their dorm. 

Hendery was also energetic, sharp, and so _attractive_ once he felt comfortable enough to not walk on eggshells around Mark. Not that Mark hadn’t thought Hendery was cute from day one, but once he opened up more, getting into heated debates about the handling of the Star Wars movies and cackling about the absolute fever dream that was Cats, he seemed to _glow_.

Which was a problem. For Mark, at least. Because cute boys were generally a hazard for his well-being, and crushing on your roommate—and new friend—was typically considered Bad Form.

And yet, here he was, a little under half-way through his first year of college. Crushing on his roommate. Hard. Mark glanced up at where Hendery was sitting cross-legged on Mark’s bed, hunched over his controller, eyes narrowed at their small bought-on-sale TV with his tongue poking out in concentration. Yeah, very hard.

But whatever, it was fine. It was just a crush after all. Right?

“Fucking take that, Pikachu,” he grumbled under his breath, yeeting the NPC Pikachu off the screen.

Mark snorted lightly as he reclined happily in his spot on the floor leaned up against the bed frame, already out of the match, in it just for watching Hendery get heated at the TV by this point. Mark sucked ass at Brawl, button-mashing more than strategizing nine times out of ten, but Hendery was good at it, and watching him play against a horde of NPCs was a true experience.

“You’re gonna be apologizing to your Pikachu plushy later,” Mark commented mildly, smile playing on his lips.

“Mr. Chu has committed no crimes and bears no fault,” Hendery said imperiously, spitting out a string of curses in the next breath, “This little fucker, on the other hand, is _evil_.” He paused, rocking to the side as his Greninja dodged on screen. “God, why. Won’t. He. _Die_.”

Mark opened his mouth, half laughing already, about to point out that Pikachu, no matter how resilient, wasn’t actually real, when Hendery’s phone let out an unfortunately familiar but wholly horrifying squawk.

“Holy fuck,” Mark hissed, hand over his chest, staring at Hendery’s phone with wide, accusatory eyes, “I thought you changed your ringtone.”

Hendery, looking similarly startled but determined to finish out this round with nothing less than a win, made a vague noise of offense. “I did but—mother _fucker—_ but Lucas must’ve changed it back.”

Mark tried to shove down the spike of jealousy rising hot in his throat. It was unreasonable to be jealous of someone he’d only ever met in passing, someone who Hendery had known for years compared to the months he’d known Mark. Who Hendery had originally meant to room with to boot. Even if said someone was a six-foot-tall adonis in comparison to Mark’s humble, but fit, five-foot-nine.

But emotions were rarely reasonable and Mark was but a weak, weak boy. Superhuman, but still so very, very _weak_.

Another loud squawk—some horrible recording of what sounded like a rubber chicken being murdered—yanked Mark back out of his thoughts. He craned his neck, glancing at the glowing screen of Hendery’s phone laying face up amongst his sheets.

“You’ve got another text.”

Hendery let out a huff. “Are they long? Can you read them to me?”

Mark stretched an arm back, grunting at the awkward angle, too lazy to move into a more comfortable position for the reach, plucking Hendery’s phone up with a precarious three fingers.

“One from...DJ Xiao.” Mark snorted lightly. That had to be Dejun Xiao, another freshman in Mark’s department who he knew was close with Hendery. “He’s asking if you guys’re still going to hotpot tonight. Which, rude, you’re ditching packaged ramen for _real_ food?”

Hendery smiled, eyes curving up, so handsome when he laughed. “I’m being _treated_ out to real food,” he corrected, “By those with deeper pockets than me, thankfully.”

Mark knew he was pouting but couldn’t help himself. Hendery typically went out to eat with his friends on the weekend before curfew. Mark, close with Hendery but few others because of his superhero gig—which left him very little time to socialize like a normal eighteen-year-old—had never been properly introduced to them. In fact, if he hadn’t occasionally seen Lucas around campus or Dejun in their shared lecture, he might not actually know what they looked like; Hendery, who always seemed at peace around Mark, seemingly intent on them never crossing paths. 

So, yeah. Mark was pouting.

“What about the second one?” Hendery asked, drawing Mark tumbling back out of his thoughts.

He sucked in a breath. Right, the texts. He looked down at Hendery’s phone again. “This one’s from Lucas.”

“Mhm?”

“It says…” Mark squinted, “‘Have you made-out with his face yet?’” Mark frowned, turning to Hendery, “What does _that_ m-”

Mark had never seen Hendery move that fast before. Didn’t know the other boy _could_ move that fast.

One second he was brutalising the buttons of his PS4 controller, the next he was throwing himself off the bed and tackling Mark to the ground, scrabbling for his phone with nervous laughter.

“Hah, haha, weird,” he said, panicked, tapping away furiously at his phone. “Wonder why he sent that.”

“Uhuh,” Mark mumbled, stunned, and not entirely displeased with the situation.

Sure, the floor was hard and the TV remote was digging awkwardly into his back, but Hendery was on top of him, body sprawled over his from knee to chest. Mark could smell his shampoo and feel his body heat seeping through the thin material of their dorm clothes; just thin shirts and sweat pants. It was fantastically distracting and all Mark wanted to do was circle his arms around Hendery’s waist and hold him close. Maybe grind up on him, just a little.

Unfortunately, because he was a coward—Donghyuck’s words, not his—it wasn’t Mark’s place to do that, so he kept his arms carefully at his sides as he watched Hendery have a mini meltdown, shooing away any wayward mental images with a firmly thought _No!_

He looked cute like this _,_ Mark mused. All pink-cheeked and flustered, brows furrowed and lips pushed out in the slightest pout.

“What time are you going out for hotpot?” Mark asked, trying to discreetly adjust how Hendery was laying on him without jostling the other boy off.

“I think four-ish?” Hendery huffed, still aggressively texting, perfectly comfortable blanketing Mark’s body. God Mark wanted to kiss him. _Wait...what?_ “I’ll be back before seven. If you still wanted to go over the assignment for Mandarin 101 together?”

Hendery looked up at him then, something that looked like hope glittering in his eyes. If he noticed, or cared, how close their faces were, he didn’t show it.

Mark swallowed, cleared his throat, trying really, _really_ hard not to stare at Hendery’s lips, or focus on the way Hendery’s legs had shifted so that one was pressing warm and insistent against Mark’s inner thigh. God, puberty—was this still puberty? This was probably still puberty—was a _bitch_. “Sure.” He cleared his throat again, feeling his cheeks heat up at the way his voice had cracked. “Sounds good.” 

Hendery grinned, wide and unabashed. A dark strand of hair slipped from where it’d been tucked behind his ear, falling into his face. “Great!”

He pushed himself up and back onto his heels with a grunt, effectively straddling Mark’s thigh to Mark’s increasing mortification.

_Oh god._

“Until then, want to try beating me one more time? Sandwiches from Lee’s on me if you can.”

Mark snorted, willed the flush that had been progressively creeping across his face and down his neck away. “Fine.” He wouldn’t win, hadn’t won yet, but Hendery’s smile made him weak and the rapidly dawning realization of _why_ was something he didn’t want to dwell too much on. Because it was bad enough if this was a a harmless little crush, it was ten times worse if it was turning into something more. “Throw in some buns from that bao bakery and you’re on.”

🕸️

Mark loved fall. The city air turned crisp despite the crowds, stores were decked out with their first round of holiday themed treats, and when he was tossed to the ground after being bounced off a billboard like a human sized ping-pong ball, sometimes, depending on what Mother Nature and global warming decided, he got to land in snow drifts instead of piles of garbage. Sometimes.

“Why,” he complained, muttering out loud to himself while lying spread eagle in a muddied up pile of slush and dead leaves, “do villains always go for flinging things? What ever happened to punching? Normal punching?”

He picked himself up, wobbling only a little from a throbbing ache in his hip, before aiming his web-shooter at the nearest high perch and launching himself back into the air.

Ricocheting back onto the scene of the fight, Mark barreled into New York’s latest strange bad guy with a hard kick, the shouted adulations of the civilians not scared off by what had become the city’s brand of daily excitement rising up around him. The bad guy—dressed in a surprisingly tough neon orange onesie—crumpled with a grunt, limbs flailing.

“Get ‘em Spider-Man!”

Mark smiled under the mask and waved in the general direction of the shout to the cheers of the assembled crowd. The villain, conscious enough to groan when Mark dropped down to press a knee between his shoulder blades and secure his hands with webs, squirmed in a weak attempt to wriggle away.

“No, no,” Mark huffed, “You’re not going anywhere, man. You tried to suck an entire bank through a warp hole. That’s like, at the top of the list for things that’ll get you arrested, dude.”

The villain tried to buck Mark off but without the structural rigging Mark had torn off him earlier he wasn’t a match for Mark’s strength. “I would’ve gotten away with it,” he grunted, twisting his neck to bare his teeth, “If it wasn’t for you meddling little-”

“Oh my god,” Mark laughed, pushing himself to his feet and hauling the bad guy up with him as he did, “Are you about to say ‘kid’? You are aren’t you?” Another laugh. “Dude, you sound like a Scooby-Doo villain.”

The villain sputtered. “Wha-”

Mark didn’t give him the chance to finish, sticking him to a light pole for the cops to pick up.

Sirens blared in the distance. Mark smiled, propping is hands on his hips. _Right on time_. He turned back to the bad guy, clapped him on the shoulder much to the man’s displeasure, and said, in his cheeriest tone, “Hang tight for me, will you. Your ride should be here any second.”

The man struggled against his bonds—entirely pointless since Mark had recently upgraded the formula for his webs. “Fuck you!”

Mark gasped, holding a hand to his chest, eyes wide and mask lenses turning to circles to match. “Language!” Then his comms pinged with an alert for another crime in progress and he dropped the act. “Anyway, later!”

The sounds of angry shouting following him, Mark started to leave—crime waited for no man, or tired college student, and the sooner he wrapped things up the sooner he could get started on his chem assignments—when someone calling for his attention stopped him.

“Yo, Spider-Man!”

Mark looked around for the source, the voice booming and happy. _Where- oh. Oh._

Lucas Wong, looking a bit like a rolled up sleeping bag with his ankle length padded jacket, was waving wildly, Hendery and Dejun Xiao next to him, the former desperately trying to get Lucas to stop.

Mark felt a flutter start in his stomach, a precursor to the tingle that was working its way up his spine. His spidey sense a sweet crawl of shiver inducing heat along his nerves in response to Hendery just being there. 

He could wave and leave. He totally could. It’s what he _should_ do. But…

Steps only partially jerky from nerves—because this was a stupid idea, Hendery could totally recognize his voice and blow his secret wide open—Mark walked over. He cleared his throat, straightened out his posture, and gave a genial wave.

“Hi there, what can I do for you guys?”

Lucas grinned, bright and mischievous and handsome in a way that was so shocking it was almost annoying. “Saw you take down that villain—very cool shit, by the way—and were wondering if we could get a picture.”

Under his mask, Mark blinked. He glanced at Hendery, who looked like he wanted to melt into the ground but couldn’t, trapped firmly under Lucas’ arm. “We?”

“Oh yeah,” Dejun drawled, a similarly mischievous look on his face. He slid an equally corralling arm around the crook of Hendery’s elbow, keeping him in place even as the other boy tried to squirm away from his friends’ grips. “Hendery here is a _big_ fan.”

Hendery covered his face with a hand, muttering under his breath. “Oh my god.”

He was, Mark noticed, wearing one of Mark’s hoodies under his white puffer jacket, while his ears and neck were turning a vibrant peachy pink. A potent combination that had Mark’s heart jumping happily in his chest. _So cute._

“Sure!” Mark chirped maybe a bit too eagerly. “Always happy to take a picture with fans!”

“Great!” Hendery was promptly wrestled and shoved up against Mark’s side while Lucas and Dejun boxed them in. Lucas pulled his phone out, using his reach to squeeze them all in close, and Mark had a moment to think about how ironic it was that he was meeting Hendery’s friends as Spider-Man before he was meeting them as ‘Mark’, before Lucas was saying, “Cheese!”, the camera shutter going off.

Hendery, thoroughly red and glaring at his friends with a look that promised revenge in the near future, cleared his throat before quickly glancing at Mark.

“Thanks,” he said, voice cracking at the end. He coughed, cheeks turning impossibly pinker, hair falling gently into his face. It really was getting long. It suited him. “‘preciate it.”

Mark, feeling his own face heat up even as a pang of jealousy flared in his chest, let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, no problem.”

His comms beeped again, his suit alerting him that it was a message from Baekhyun this time, asking where he was and when he’d be swinging in to help with the mess unfolding downtown.

“Ah, sorry,” he said, pointing a thumb vaguely westward, “Trouble’s calling so…”

“Oh yeah, yeah, you should go!” Lucas said, genuine in the concern forming a crease between his brows. “Sorry, forgot that you might have other places to be and people to save.”

Mark snorted, smiling even if they couldn’t really see it. “No problem,” he said, shooting them finger guns that he immediately regretted, “Stay safe, study, don’t forget to do your homework and all that jazz.”

Dejun let out a sharp bark of laughter that Hendery immediately elbowed him for with a perfectly straight face. Lucas, at least, was nice enough to cover his laughter behind one enormous hand—like, holy _shit_ his fingers were long.

_That’s not fair._

Another beep, more insistent. Baekhyun’s personal addition to his suit. Various levels of urgency for his notifications.

“Right, so,” Mark cleared his throat, aimed a web-shooter, fired, “bye then.”

Then he was in the air, already slinging from his next web.

“See you around, Spider-Man!” someone shouted.

“Be safe!”

Mark sucked in a breath, chest filling with a tingling warmth. That had been Hendery’s voice.

Under his mask, Mark was smiling wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. Even if he had to spend that rest of the day swinging around New York moving from fight to fight, it would still be a good day.

🕸️

Fall, besides a nice change in weather, also meant one of Mark’s favorite corporate holidays: Halloween! And, Halloween this year meant going over to his cousin’s place to be fed by his aunt and complain to Donghyuck about the latest mess in his fail of a love life.

“So, you said yes to going to some big Halloween party on campus, but your costume is stupid so you’re here looking for something hotter to impress your roommate with,” Donghyuck surmised from where he was flopped back across his bed, tapping away at some rhythm game on his phone which was held precariously over his face. “Why don’t you just tell your boy you like him? I’m sure it’d be easier than squeezing into that pair of pants you’re holding.”

Mark sputtered. “My costume’s not stupid! It’s _witty_. An inside joke for me, myself, and I,” he paused, “And Hendery’s not my boy!”

“Mmhm, sure, also you said nothing about the pants.”

“Because you’re right,” Mark sighed, tossing the pair of dark skinnies he’d been eyeing back into the pile of clothes already gathered on his cousin’s closet floor. “My thighs are bigger than yours, the pants wouldn’t fit.”

“Fuck you,” Donghyuck said automatically, then, “Try the pair of black ripped jeans, third drawer from the bottom.”

Mark let out a small, happy chirrup of a noise, going for the drawer Donghyuck had said. “Aren’t these skinny too?”

Donghyuck hummed. “Yeah, but they’re _stretchy_.” Finally putting his phone down, he rolled over onto his stomach to stare at Mark with a smug smirk, propping his chin up on his fist. “So, if you’re sticking to your guns with that dumb, off-brand Spider-Man onesie, why’re you rifling through my closet for a different fit?”

“Well,” Mark winced, “You see, the thing is, I may or may not have known Hendery was going in the first place when I bought the costume, and,” he cleared his throat, “Hendery may or may not be going as Spider-Man also.”

Donghyuck’s eyes lit up, positively glittering with mirth. “Oh my god, you _would_ like a guy who’s into your alter ego. I still don’t get the problem, though. You live together, I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

Mark scratched at the back of his neck, thinking back to the moment he realized he had a problem on his hands. Hendery had been clicking away on his computer to a poppy playlist, knee happily bouncing under his desk when Mark had walked in to their dorm. Mark, heart kicking in his chest, had wandered over out of curiosity and pure helplessness, drawn to Hendery like a magnet. That’s when multiple things had happened at once. Hendery, finally noticing him, jumped in his chair like a startled cat with a loud, “ _Holy fuck!_ ”, and Mark, realizing what Hendery had been doing on his laptop, pointed dumbly at the screen and shouted an equally loud, “ _Spider-Man?_ ”

Hendery had been looking through an entire folder of Spider-Man photos. Official pictures taken from articles and news headlines, as well as candid shots that looked like they’d been taken on people’s cell phones as Mark swung on by, all carefully curated by year and quality. It was...a lot. Objectively. Subjectively, Mark was finding himself stupidly jealous of his superhero alter ego while simultaneously preening under the attention Hendery was unknowingly heaping on him.

Mark didn’t want to tell Donghyuck that, though. His cousin would literally never let him live it down if he found out the guy he liked wasn’t just “into” Spider-Man, but was, as he recently learned, edging into die-hard fan territory.

Trying to hedge around that truth, Mark eventually settled on saying, “It’s less about how ridiculous the costume is,” and it was, ridiculous that is, it looked like children’s pajamas, “and more about not wanting to make a whole bunch of associations between me and Spider-Man.”

“What,” Donghyuck snorted, “Think he’s gonna be making connections between the way your ass and Spider-Man’s sags in your suits?

“First of all,” Mark started, pausing in his closet rifling, to give Donghyuck an utterly offended frown, “My ass is perfectly firm, thank you very much. And second of all,” he thought of Hendery’s smile, full of blind hero worship, as he stared at his computer screen, mollified when Mark hadn’t freaked out, “I...don’t know if I’d put it past him.”

Donghyuck raised a well cared-for brow, but thankfully didn’t chase that particular conversation line. “Then why don’t you just get a different costume?” 

“I already bought this one. That’s a commitment to wear it in public at least once, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes in such a perfect circle Mark was honestly impressed. “How can you be both smart _and_ stupid?”

“Hey!”

“But fine, if you’re serious about sticking to your dumb plan, take the black ripped skinnies with a pair of fishnet tights and one of my black band tees. If anyone asks, you’re being ‘edgy’. That should be enough of a costume for you, and you’ll look hot for _Hendery_.” Donghyuck smiled at Mark’s choked off sputtering serenely. “In exchange, get me the number of that one really tall, really hot friend your boy is friends with. With that, we’ll be even.”

“The- wait, Lucas? Are you talking about Lucas? How do you-”

“He’s all over your boy’s instagram. Thought he was dating him for a hot sec and felt bad for you, until I did a little more digging and realized they really are just friends.”

Mark didn’t know what to say. There was so much there he could grill Donghyuck on, his brain only managing to focus in on, “‘A little more digging’?”

Donghyuck waved his hand. “Just a bit of scrolling through his social media. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Mark made a noise of distress high in his throat. “ _Hyuck_.”

Before his cousin could launch into the put-upon explanation the heavy sigh he heaved definitely prefaced, his aunt was calling for them from the kitchen, the smell of food finally registering to both of them. Without any hesitation they flung themselves out the door and down the hall in a mad dash like men possessed, their conversation left hanging on that note.

Somewhere in the back of Mark’s head, he felt like he should’ve been more concerned that Donghyuck had a way to meddle that Mark wouldn’t be able to deter. That was for future Mark to deal with, though. For now, he could be happy with having a spare outfit and Halloween plans.

🕸️

Mark felt a lot better about his costume the second he got to the frat house hosting the night’s party. There were people in all sorts of dress and undress, quality ranging wildly. There were half-assed togas and Victoria Secret-esque angel wings, alongside decked out Trekkies and complex looking devils. And, then there were all the superhero costumes. At least five Captain America’s greeting him as he walked in with his friend Yeri at his side; dressed cutely as a roller derby skater with knee pads and everything. 

It was a little wild...especially when Mark realized that attempting to count the amount of Spider-Man merch floating around was an ultimately futile task. There was just _so much_. Some of it knock-off in funny ways—the wrong patterning, or entire cut-outs for the “eyeholes”—while others looked legit.

Actually, if Mark looked closely, a lot of it was official merch, courtesy of Baekhyun and his enterprising habits. A plastic mask here, a non-functioning web-shooter there, even a few full suits—sans the masks. It had Mark sending a mental thank you to the existence of royalties and all the unknowing students around him who had helped contribute to his steadily growing savings account.

“Hey,” Yeri tugged on his arm, pulling Mark down to the side so she didn’t have to tip up to shout in his ear. “If I see my friends, is it cool if I dip?”

Mark nodded, shouting back, “Sure! Message me if you end up going home so I know you got back safe, though. Buddy system!”

Yeri grinned up at him, smacking a sticky, glitter gloss kiss to Mark’s cheek. “You’re the best, Lee.”

Mark snorted but grinned right back. “You bet I am. Think we’ll be able to get drinks?” he asked, conscious of the little addendum on his ID marking him as still under 21. “The pre-gaming we did didn’t really do much for me, and I think I need to be at least tipsy for all...this.”

Yeri stared at where Mark was looking, grimacing at the sight of one of the house brothers wearing far too little clothes and strutting around with way too much confidence.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “I think we can manage it. At the very least, I’m like 90% sure Joy brought along a cheap bottle of vodka. So, if all else fails, there’s that.”

Game plan set and the sight of a twenty-something year-old parading around as a cheap cupid in a diaper burned into both their minds, Mark led Yeri through the throngs of guests, making sure he took the brunt of any jostling as they made their winding way to the kitchen.

It was a bit overwhelming, being surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces, all shouting or smiling or dancing along to the heavy beat of some remixed pop song Mark felt like he should recognize but didn’t. People drunkenly commented on both Mark and Yeri’s costumes as they passed, a lot of guys, and a fair number of girls, taking a predictable interest in the skin Yeri was flashing. A surprising amount of people thought Mark’s costume was _hilarious_ , shouting, “Eyyy, off-brand Spidey!” from behind cupped hands like they were out at a football game instead of two feet away inside a cramped house party.

The overall effect left Mark distantly pleased in his initial costume choice and ready to go home by the time the two of them finally reached the slightly less crowded kitchen area, sweaty and tired and regretting his decision to wear his second outfit under his first.

“Now,” Yeri said, wiping at the sweat collecting above her top lip and along her hairline, “I _really_ need a drink.”

Scoping out the kitchen, Mark spotted a massive cooler chilling on the floor under the main drink table. He inwardly cursed when he realized someone—one of the frat brothers, he imagined—was technically guarding it. Technically, because the guy was currently chatting up a group of girls with their IDs out to be “checked”.

Mark considered the effectiveness of sending Yeri over to try and smile her way into some free liquor, when Mark remembered that he was _actually_ Spider-Man, and could therefore just go pilfer it himself with some quick web-slinging action. Feeling a bit giddy at the very real possibility of getting caught, Mark tugged his soft-cloth mask down over his face and left Yeri on watch duty with strict instructions to keep her eyes out for anyone heading their way.

She gave him a bemused smile but agreed easily enough, going along with the, “Mission Impossible energy”.

With an ease that caused only a minor, split-second moral quandary, Mark flipped up the cooler lid while he pretended to be tying his shoe laces, using his webs to snag up two beers as he stood. All in all it took about two minutes for Mark to swipe their beers, three if you counted the extra minute he spent getting startled by a seriously high looking dude dressed as Shaggy staring at him with wide, awe-filled eyes. Mark, breathing only when he realized that, between the weed and the cup of jungle juice the guy was holding, he probably wouldn’t remember any of this anyway, popped the caps off their beers and shot the guy a pair of finger guns as he skittered away.

Sidling back up to where Yeri was diligently keeping watch, he tapped her shoulder with one of the bottles, snickering when she jumped with a high-pitched yelp from the icy glass. Suffering a punch to the shoulder in retaliation, Mark settled back against the wall of the corner they’d picked—the least crowded area of kitchen they could find—to sip at their beers and cool down. 

They stood there, giggling and pointing out some of the crazier costumes they saw wander by, slowly acclimating to the overall chaos of the party. Eventually, Yeri spotted one of her friends—an older looking girl dressed up as a pixie pettily spritzing anyone who got too close with a bottle of shimmery body spray in one hand, while wielding a bottle of vodka in the other—and flitted away with a reaffirmed promise to text Mark when she left and when she got home.

It left Mark to skulk in the kitchen alone, still too overheated in his many layers of clothing to be tempted back out into the crowd, or out onto the pseudo dancefloor that had formed. He had his shitty, soft-cloth mask pushed up to his forehead, acting as a headband for his sweat-damp hair, now empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers as he scanned the crowd for a specific familiar face, when he ended up being found instead.

“Yo!”

Mark startled, choking a little on his spit as he turned with round eyes to see a widely grinning Hendery pointing at him.

Mark, who’d been mourning his body’s inability to get drunk but was evidently a bit more buzzed than he’d initially thought, matched the brightness of Hendery’s expression and pointed right back—nicely done spidey suit to cheap child’s onesie—cackling out a too-happy, “Dude!”

Hendery laughed loud and clear, head thrown back and eyes scrunched shut. Mark stared, feeling winded by how pretty the curve of Hendery’s throat looked tossed back in happy laughter, even under the kitchen’s shitty lighting and mostly covered by the high, skin-tight neck of his costume. The fall of his hair—long and slightly damp from the general heat in the house—was distracting enough that when Hendery righted himself, wiping at the corner of his eyes with still visible glee, Mark found himself with an armful of boy before he could register what was happening.

“I can’t believe you- you’re Spider-Man tooo,” Hendery crooned, breath hot where it hit Mark’s chin and neck. He giggled to himself, propping his chin on Mark’s shoulder and blinking up at him slowly. When he spoke again, his breath smelled like whatever he’d been drinking—strong liquor with sugary artificial flavoring layered underneath. Not that Mark could bring himself to care, though, considering how Hendery was _in his arms_. “You should’ve told mee we were gonna be match- matchy- twins!”

Mark’s smile softened, taking in the gentle, pink flush on Hendery’s cheeks and the tip of his rounded nose even as he felt entirely overwhelmed by this turn of events. 

Mark could honestly say he wanted to kiss Hendery breathless in that moment; slot their mouths together and find out what Hendery tasted like. He had a healthy amount of self-control and human decency, though, and wasn’t about to do that when Hendery looked like he might not remember this conversation come tomorrow. 

He did let his hands come to rest comfortably at the small of Hendery’s back, though, holding him up as Hendery settled all his weight warm and heavy against Mark’s chest.

“It would’ve ruined the surprise,” Mark told him, smiling wider at the eye-roll he received in response. “Nice costume, by the way,” he added, “It looks pretty legit. Must’ve cost a pretty penny.”

Hendery shook his head, which, while drunk, meant he rocked both their bodies in a small sway, his own arms locked around Mark’s waist.

“A friend made it. I agreed to—” he struggled for a second, scrunching his nose and breathing in deep to clear his head, “To model for her.”

“Made it?” Mark asked, impressed enough to be temporarily distracted from how Hendery was absentmindedly picking at the shirt Mark was wearing under his costume, fingers prodding at his back and the opening of his onesie. Mark had made his original super suit on his own, after all, working away at the old sewing machine his grandmother had originally gifted his mother. He knew how hard that type of work was, and whoever had made Hendery’s suit had done a far better job than Mark originally had. “Damn, that’s impressive.”

Hendery smiled, smug like a cat, taking a step back to turn for Mark in an only moderately unsteady circle, arms out for flair.

“She goes to Parsons. Studies _fashion_ ,” Hendery said. He plucked at the stretchy material of his costume, the spandex pulling taut over the planes of his body, leaving even less to the imagination than before for one blindingly distressing moment. “She’s kinda scary sometimes, but mostly she’s cool.”

“Oh?” Mark managed around a cough, eyes still trying to drift down the line of Hendery’s body despite his best efforts.

 _Pull yourself together, Lee. It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before. Or in boxers. Or almost naked_.

They lived together for fuck’s sake.

But Mark imagined the effect Hendery’s homemade costume was having on him was what skimpy bathing suits and lingerie aimed to do: show just enough to make what was underneath more tempting.

With a stray brain cell not dedicated to smiling dopily at Hendery as he jumped into an animated explanation of what went down from when he and his friends arrived at the party to now, Mark wondered if _his_ super suit had that effect on others. He thought of Hendery looking over photos of him as Spider-Man and really hoped that it did.

“Did you come here alone?”

Mark blinked out of his daze, heart thumping painfully from how intently Hendery was looking at him, smile a little lopsided but very sweet. He licked at the corner of his lips and Mark almost forgot he’d been asked a question entirely.

“U-um, no, no I didn’t,” he managed, forcing his eyes up to meet Hendery’s even though that was arguably just as dangerous as staring at his mouth. “I came here with Yeri. She found her friends and left with them, though.”

Hendery pouted, the expression loose and almost...flirty?

No. That couldn’t be right. Could it?

“You should’ve jus’ come with me.” He tilted his head, stepping back into Mark’s space. “I would’ve ditched Lucas ‘n Dejun if I’d,” a deep breath to steady himself and blink away the haze of alcohol, “If I’d known you were coming.”

Mark would’ve preferred if Hendery had just invited him along with his friends instead of maintaining this weird dance of keeping them apart, but Mark was kind of smitten and Hendery was giggling to himself softly now as he picked at the front of Mark’s costume, so he kept that thought very firmly to himself. He could always bring it up later. Maybe. If he had the guts to.

“You found me anyway,” Mark shrugged, a hair raising shiver suddenly slithering down his spine. His brows twitched down, surveying the kitchen as his vision warped and narrowed at the edges. _Where…?_ “It’s all-”

Ah. There.

In one smooth motion, Mark reached out to tug Hendery close and stepped out around him, vaguely registering the hitch in Hendery’s breath as he steadied himself against Mark’s chest before wet warmth was sloshing over his arm and shoulder.

“Oh shit,” a voice behind him said as Mark shook his arm with a grimace, the pungent smell of beer hitting his nose. “Sorry man, didn’t see you there.”

Mark tossed a smile over his shoulder, noting that the guy who’d just spilled his drink all over Mark did at least look genuinely apologetic about it. “Nah, man, it’s fine. You’re all good.”

It took a few more assurances before the guy and his friend wandered off, satisfied that Mark wasn’t pissed at them for ruining his cheap ass costume. Laughing to himself at the absurdity of his spidey senses coming in handy in a situation like this, Mark turned back to Hendery with a much more real smile, only to find Hendery blinking up at him with something that looked like glassy-eyed awe.

“Woww, you-you moved reaally fast just now.” He squinted at Mark, eyes sliding down to where Mark still had a handful of his costume, the nicely designed spider crest crinkling in Mark’s fist. “You’re reaally strong, too.” He looked up at Mark, whose hand had spasmed from how quickly his brain had screamed at him to let go, gaze ghosting over his face which must’ve been turning an impressive shade of red, the heat flooding it making Mark dizzy. “Kinda hot.”

Mark, well, Mark didn’t really know how to process that. His brain just kind of short-circuited, sputtering for a second before he was letting out a stream of too-loud nervous laughter.

“Hah, hahaha I’m- it’s, hah, it’s really not,” he managed, reaching back to awkwardly fumble at the ties keeping his costume on, clearing his throat when he finally got them loose, peeling the whole damp thing off with a grunt. “I, uh, just saw the guy coming. That’s all.”

Hendery was grinning at him, hair falling into his eyes, looking much more the rakish hero in his well-made fan suit than Mark had ever felt.

“That’s all, huh?” he hummed, watching Mark fix the outfit he’d had on under, retucking his shirt as best as possible. “Hey, Mark.” 

“Hm?” Mark patted at his hair, looking for somewhere to toss the ruined onesie. _It served me well_. “Yeah?”

“Why do you have a whole diff’rent outfit on?”

 _“Because I wanted to impress you,”_ was something Mark would die of embarrassment before saying to Hendery’s face, so instead, what came out was: “I’m Spider-Man’s alter ego, uh, you know, whoever he is.”

Hendery’s grin widened, lopsided and wonderful and Mark’s urge to kiss him intensified. “Spider-Man’s alter ego is…” he gave Mark a heavy once over, eyes dragging down Mark’s body painfully slow, “...goth?”

Mark huffed out a weak laugh, heart beating a mile-a-minute behind his ribs, heat diffusing through his chest, his arms, before finally settling in his belly. He shrugged. “I mean, he could be?”

“I always thought he’d be, mm,” Hendery swayed to the side, stumbled a little, gave Mark a giddy smile when he automatically reached out a firm hand to steady him, “Moreee, boy next door?”

His arms were around Mark’s waist again, body heat searing now that there was one less layer between them. 

“Boy next door?” Mark breathed, keeping his smile calm through sheer force of will even as Hendery—evidently a handsy drunk—slid his hands back and down, hooking his thumbs in Mark’s belt loops while the rest of his fingers found a happy home in Mark’s back pockets.

“Mhm.” Hendery laughed, eyes pushing up into the loveliest crescents, lashes dark at the corners where they touched his skin. “Kinda like you, actually.”

Mark nearly jumped out of his skin. The laugh that bubbled up this time, unbidden and unwanted, was more panicked than nervous. Loud and sudden, and if Mark was being honest, more a burst of harsh sound than anything else.

“Me? Hah, no, Spider-Man wouldn’t be—I mean, he’d be cooler and—”

“Oh!” Hendery cut Mark off with a shout, whipping his head around so suddenly Mark was worried he’d pull something. 

He was staring with wide, sparkling eyes towards where the people on the party’s designated dancefloor were cheering and starting to sing the opening lines for No Hands. A true throwback. 

Bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, putting his face dangerously close to Mark’s, Hendery shouted over the raised volume of the music, positively glowing from head to toe. “Wanna dance?”

Mark, heat still simmering in his belly with the very real threat of settling even lower, was unable to say no to Hendery on a good day, and now…

He leaned closer so he wouldn’t have to yell as loud, catching the faintest whiff of Hendery’s cologne still stubbornly sticking to his skin. “Sure! If you want to!”

Next thing he knew, he was being turned around and hustled out of the kitchen with a startling slap to his ass and a loud cackle from Hendery. Mark jumped with a squeak, body buzzing from the way Hendery immediately crowded close after, burying a smile against Mark’s shoulder as his hands found their way into his back pockets again, the touch burning through the stretched thin material of Mark’s borrowed skinnies.

Embarrassingly, the way Hendery’s hands felt settled on his ass had Mark’s blood rushing south fast, leaving him faintly lightheaded as they pushed through and into the actively dancing crowd. When Hendery laughed around telling him, “Never noticed how nice your ass is, Lee,” Mark felt his dick jump in the tight confines of his jeans, slowly starting to fill out despite his desperate, silent pleas for it to _not_.

 _I’m going to die,_ Mark thought faintly as Hendery pulled them to a stop in the midst of more dancing bodies than Mark could count, spinning Mark with a push and a pull until they were face-to-face. Hendery slung his arms around Mark’s neck, grinning when Mark somehow stumbled closer, someone bumping into him from behind.

And then they were pressed together, hips swaying, grinding to the dirty bass of the music, Mark’s entire being overheating to the point his brain just shut down altogether. The rest of the night wound up passing in an arousal addled blur, Mark half carrying a sleepy Hendery home at the end of the night after bumping into and equally inebriated Dejun who gave him a terrifying, drunken onceover before nodding and waving them on their way.

The trek from the frat to their dorm was cold and felt longer than the trip to the party at the beginning of the night, but Mark couldn’t bring himself to even mentally complain. Hendery was a warm weight draped over his shoulders as Mark carried him like a backpack, fiddling with the hairs at the nape of Mark’s neck while he hummed along to a rhythmless song.

This was, like, the best night of Mark’s college career so far. Which he knew was arguably sad, but! Mark was happy, so the little Donghyuck on his shoulder saying he was a whipped wimp could shove it.

It did make things a bit rough for Mark the next morning, though. He woke up after a restless night of sleep—images of Hendery’s ass pressed back against his crotch, grinding to the fucking Spongebob theme, plaguing his subconcsious—to Hendery and an amazing case of very fluffy looking bedhead.

It was _devastating_. It also meant that when Hendery asked about how they got back and if he did anything stupid, cheeks pink and eyes wide with worry, Mark couldn’t bring himself to even mention that they danced good and dirty together for the latter half of the party, absolutely no space between them for the Holy Spirit.

He couldn’t really ask, “When you grinded on me last night, was it platonic-horny grinding or emotional-horny grinding?”, so, instead, he smiled and leaned down to pluck up Hendery’s Spider-Man costume, lying in a pile on the floor. (The costume _Mark_ had helped him strip out of, hands shaking and skin buzzing.)

“Nah, nothing bad,” he said, smiling easily at Hendery’s sigh of relief. “You did promise to give me the contact info of your Parson’s friend,” he lied, giving Hendery’s costume a little shake, “Tried to give it to me last night but it didn’t go so well.”

Hendery closed his eyes with a groan, scrubbing at his face with his hands. It wasn’t enough to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though. “Sorry about that.” 

He crawled off his bed with measured movements, wobbling every now and then from what must have been a raging hangover—probably the only reason he didn’t question Mark’s interest in a fashion student and her much better designed version of Spider-Man’s supersuit. He grabbed the first pen and piece of scrap paper off his desk he could find, squinting as he scribbled out a name and phone number. Once he was done, much to Mark’s pleasant but startled surprise, Hendery clambered into Mark’s bed.

“Her name is Yuqi. She’s really chill. If she’s not super busy with her studio classes she should be down for coffee or something, so you can talk about,” he waved his hand in the air, listing closer, “whatever it is you want to talk about.”

His head was tilted down while he talked, dark hair falling in his eyes in soft waves, still unwashed from the product he’d used to style it the previous night. Mark felt like he’d been given a special gift by the universe, being allowed to see Hendery like this in the morning. The Hendery that wasn’t put together, but still sleep soft, pink pillow lines pressed into his cheek. Something private and precious.

Mark felt his lips pull into a smile, physically unable to stop himself and feeling instantly mortified when—of course—Hendery looked up just in time to catch him staring like a lovesick fool.

_Wait. Love? No, what? Fuck._

There was a small furrow between Hendery’s brows, something unconscious and unintentional that disappeared quickly, replaced with a lopsided little grin. “What _do_ you need her number for, by the way?”

Mark blinked, brain working to spin another lie while simultaneously trying to figure out if that was _jealousy_ he was hearing layered into Hendery’s tone. It just...it couldn’t be. Right?

Mark dug his nails into his covered thigh, biting into soft flannel. _Focus_.

“I’m a fan,” he said, mouth stumbling a bit over the blurted words, “of Spider-Man. Wanted to see if she could, uh, make me my own.”

Not totally false, which made the discomfort of lying almost all the time to Hendery ease a bit, but embarrassing to say, a furious blush burning his cheeks.

Hendery didn’t seem to think it was embarrassing, though. In fact, his eyes were practically _shining_.

“Seriously?”

Mark nodded, trying to keep his expression somewhere between earnest and grave. “Seriously.”

“Holy shit, thats such a fucking relief, dude,” Hendery laughed. “I seriously panicked when you walked in on me looking at my photo files. Like, thought I was gonna have to move to another country and change my name levels of panic.”

Mark let out a startled bark of laughter at that, matching Hendery’s level of smile without thinking. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, man,” Hendery ducked his head again, rubbing at the back of his neck, tips of his ears heating to a nice deep pink. “Lucas and Dejun always tease me for it. Just used to not telling people, I guess.”

Mark just barely stopped himself from making a truly desperate noise in the back of his throat at Hendery’s entire being. 

_Jesus fucking Christ, Mark Lee, pull yourself together_.

“Well,” Mark cleared his throat, “I think it’s cool. Spider-Man is cool. So, if, you, uh, needed someone to talk to about fan...stuff, I’m here.”

Hendery sucked in a slow, audible breath, gazing at Mark with wide, hopeful eyes. “You sure? Like, you’re not just, I don’t know, fucking with me or something?”

Mark smiled, laughed, holding up his pinky between them. “Promise.”

🕸️

Mark figured out why Hendery had kept his friends from him about a month before winter break.

Trudging back to the dorm, worn out from a night of heroics and a day of classes and test prep and just general college nonsense, Mark didn’t notice there were other voices coming from their room until he was already opening the door.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure whatever higher power is up there actually hates me,” he started, ready to complain and hopefully whine his way into some—unfortunately—platonic cuddling, when he finally realized there were three pairs of startled eyes staring up at him from their dorm room floor instead of the usual one. “Uh.”

“Hi,” Lucas grinned up at him, perfect teeth flashing in a perfectly handsome smile, a fine dusting of glitter in his hair. He held up something red and white and covered in googly eyes. “Stocking?”

Mark blinked, bemused and amused. _What?_ He let out a nervous chuckle. “Um?”

“Mark!” Hendery, who’d frozen upon his arrival and had been seemingly rebooting, brain catching up to the situation, launched himself to his feet now, clambering over a complaining Dejun to get to where Mark was still standing. “I didn’t think you’d be back yet!” His eyes were wide and kept shifting to the side, casting glances at his friends and the mess they were sitting in. “Sorry about...this. We can clean up and go somewhere else if you wa-”

“It’s fine,” Mark cut in, laughing lightly, catching Hendery’s elbow before he could turn and throw himself into picking up. “This is literally your room too. Just because I’m a weird hermit doesn’t mean _you_ can’t have friends over.”

“You’re not a weird hermit,” Hendery mumbled, still looking very much like he wanted to shoo everyone out.

“Yeah,” Dejun said, leaning back on his hands, a small, red pompom ball stuck to the tip of his nose. “A weird hermit wouldn’t be as popular as you are.”

Mark’s mouth twisted into an amused smile even as Hendery hissed at Dejun to _“Shut up”_.

“I’m not popular,” Mark laughed. “This is college, that’s not really a thing.”

“It kind of is, and you kind of are,” Lucas chirped, still smiling sunnily. “In a ‘nerdy but cute’ sort of way, you know? Much more lowkey.”

There were air quotes around “nerdy but cute” and Mark kind of wanted to know who’d said it, even as he felt his face start to heat up. He didn’t really know how to respond, though, too tired from a long day to put that much thought into the comment, on top of handling the suddenness of finally—finally!—getting to officially meet Hendery’s little crew. Something that was most likely _entirely_ unintentional, but Mark would take it anyway.

“I,” he started, coughed, cleared his throat, “Cool, I guess.”

Dejun snorted. “Yup. _Cool_. Anyway, Hendery, are you gonna let him in or not? Stop blocking him like some over-protective parent.”

Hendery sputtered, brows drawing together. “Wha—I am not!”

“You are,” Lucas nodded. He twisted around, searching for something under the pile of odds and ends they’d accumulated on the floor around them. He fished out another fresh, un-decorated stocking and held it out to Mark, reaching his other—long, very long—arm out to swat Hendery’s leg with a perfunctory slap when he tried to intercept it. “So, wanna join?”

Mark eyed the stocking, the mess, Dejun and Lucas looking at him expectantly, and shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Hendery made a small noise of distress. Lucas let out a loud whoop that whoever was in the room next door could definitely hear. Dejun simply scooched over to make some space.

Setting his things down, mindful of the supersuit stuffed in his backpack, Mark kicked off his shoes and got comfortable between Lucas and a fidgeting Hendery.

He bumped shoulders with Hendery, smile gentling, sitting cross-legged and pressing their knees together in a way Mark hoped was calming. He didn’t get why Hendery was acting so high-strung. Mark, personally, had been hoping for a chance like this for a while now and was thoroughly looking forward to the unexpected opportunity that’d been offered up to him on a silver platter.

 _Besides,_ Mark thought, accepting the stocking Lucas dropped in his lap, _What’s the worst that could happen anyway?_

🕸️

Not even twenty minutes later, Mark got his answer.

“I’m going to _kill_ you,” Dejun threatened calmly, hands curled into fists over his knees. 

“How was I supposed to know the glue was just gonna squirt out like that?” Hendery huffed, unafraid as he dabbed at Dejun’s face with a wet hand towel. “If anything it’s Lucas’ fault. If he hadn’t tried to take the glue from me in the first place this would’ve never happened.”

Lucas made a sound of blatant offense, pausing what he was doing (trying, and failing, to wipe an entire little pot’s worth of glitter off himself with a wet wipe) to glare at Hendery. “All you had to do was let me use it for _one second_. I wasn’t gonna eat it. I was gonna give it right back!”

“I was _literally using it_ ,” Hendery shot back, whipping his head around to return the glare two-fold, undeterred even as the sharp movement dislodged a few soft foam cuttings which had managed to find their way into his hair. 

“You’re worse than children,” Dejun hissed, looking between Hendery and Lucas with fire burning in his eyes, jaw clenched. “ _Both of you_.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas snorted, “but I don’t want to hear that from someone who covered _themself_ in glitter trying to do that salt meme.”

“First of all, you all fucking laughed so your point is _moot_ , and second of all,” he narrowed his eyes, the expression sharpening his whole face, making him seem much more intimidating than his smaller stature warranted, “I hope you’re not comparing glitter to super glue because _they’re not even in the same ballpark_.”

Lucas opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, then shut it with a final click, thinking better of whatever he’d been about to try and rebut _that_ one with. 

Mark—watching on in distant fascination as the three of them dissolved into bickering that was quickly rising in volume—took in the scene of destruction around them. 

There’d be glitter in their room forever with the way it’d gone flying when Hendery had all but tackled Lucas in the Great Glue Tussle. Varying sizes of fluffy pompoms were scattered across their work area; the result of them being used by Dejun to get Hendery’s attention while the other boy had been painstakingly drawing out flowers with the single tube of glitter glue they’d procured from who-knows-where. Then there were the googly eyes, four of which had been stuck on in pairs to Lucas’ knees, and two of which were currently glued to Mark’s. 

_Not_ with super-glue, though. Why they were even using super-glue in the first place when there was a mostly full tube of _regular_ glue lying around Mark had no clue. Super-glue was always a disaster waiting to happen.

Of course, none of that was anywhere near as bad as Hendery almost being dared into drinking glue water, tempted by $30 and a smug, challenging smile from Dejun. He’d had such a serious look on his face, fully ready to down it with the promise of cash. If Mark hadn’t intervened, swiping the cup from him, he’s a hundred percent sure chaos would’ve reigned.

 _As if it isn’t anyways_ , Mark thought to himself, watching, amused, as Hendery’s moderately gentle cleaning of Dejun’s face escalated to a much more annoyed assault in direct response to the increase in Dejun’s whining. 

“You know,” Mark started, propping his chin on his fist and balancing his elbow on his knee, “there’s an easier way to do that. One that doesn’t involve getting one of our towels stuck to Dejun’s face.”

Everyone turned to Mark with matching wide-eyed looks. _Hah, they look like meerkats_.

Dejun shoved Hendery away from him with a hand to his face. “Come again?”

“Yeah, you can either soak it off with soap and hot water, or, for quicker results, you can dissolve it with nail polish remover.”

“You mean I have blue fuzz all over my face for no reason?” Dejun asked, eyebrow twitching. Hendery slowly inched away, shuffling closer to Mark. Dejun hissed out a breath, turning to glare at Hendery. “I hate you. I really do.”

Hendery coughed, trying to cover up a snort, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth when it became obvious he couldn’t bite down on his smile. “Oops?”

Mark patted Hendery on the shoulder, unfolding himself and rising to his feet. “I’ll go get the nail polish remover and some q-tips.” He glanced at the splotches of super-glue starting to dry reflective on Dejun’s face. “Maybe some make-up remover pads, too.”

“Why do you have nail polish remover and make-up remover pads?” Lucas asked, blowing on his still drying stocking now that a fight seemed to be off the table, having resorted to the “lesser glue.”

“For stuff like this, actually,” Mark said, coming back with the half-empty bottle and supplies. He’d bought it back when he was making his old bargain bin supersuit and web-shooters. Before Baekhyun had provided him with a much, much better one. “And for cleaning, sometimes. It’s good for metal.”

“Oh?” Lucas waved his stocking in the air in a lazy back and forth, “What’re you cleaning metal for?”

“Ah,” Mark chuckled, rubbing the side of his neck as he handed off the cleaning supplies to Dejun’s grabby hands, “I make things sometimes.”

Lucas’ head snapped up in interest then. “Make things? Like, you build stuff?”

Mark helped Dejun up, stepping to the side so could go clean up in front of the mirror. “Sometimes.”

“He made a roomba!” Hendery chirped, beaming up at Mark. “It eventually broke, but it lasted for a while before that. He’s very handy.”

“Ohh, I’m sure,” Dejun drawled from the bathroom.

Lucas snickered and Hendery immediately turned bright red. Mark, realization dawning on him slower, felt his whole body catch fire.

 _Hendery’s friends are demons_ , Mark mentally huffed, allowing Lucas to partially crawl forward and drag him back down to keep working on his stocking, as if a big ol’ innuendo hadn’t been dropped like a bomb. _Demons—_ Mark glanced over at Hendery just in time to see him, having gotten up without Mark noticing, haul Dejun off his feet and out of the bathroom only to drag him to the ground with a war cry— _and Hendery’s one of them._

Mark smiled, a glow of fondness unfurling like a flower in the sun. _Not that that’s a bad thing._

🕸️

Unfortunately, Hendery apparently didn’t agree with Mark’s opinion that his friends were the “fun type of mess”. 

After the whole stocking fiasco—both Hendery’s and Mark’s now hanging from stick-on wall hooks that would be a bitch to take off later—Hendery was more careful about their hangouts not crossing over. He’d ask what Mark’s schedule for the day was with a carefully cheery tone in the morning, and then make sure that if Lucas or Dejun were over, they were gone by the time Mark was getting back. Mark, whose plate was busier than usual with finals rapidly looming, wouldn’t have really noticed, considering how careful Hendery was, if _Lucas_ —who’d demanded Mark’s number with a toothy grin once he realized they had the same taste in almost everything—hadn’t pointed it out to him first.

“It’s just bad timing,” Mark tried reasoning over a lunch of cheap but tasty dim sum, enjoying a brief break between studying for finals and hero work on Lucas’ dime.

Lucas, chewing around a mouthful of turnip cake, raised an eyebrow. “Bad timing would be us once in a while missing each other. This is, like,” he waved his chopsticks around a bit before going for the last siu mai, “tactics. Tactics, and Hendery obsessively checking the time to toss us out before you get home like we’re his dirty little secret.”

“Tha—” Mark laughed, just barely saving himself from choking on his tea, “Why would he do that? We’ve already all met!”

Lucas stared at Mark for a beat, blinking, the gears in his head very clearly turning. Eventually he cleared his throat, giving Mark a small, somewhat sheepish smile. “He’s probably worried we’ll say something weird to you. Drive you off.”

Mark snorted, stuffing a bite of sticky rice and chicken into his mouth. “I’ve seen him cry over anime. I’ve seen his Spider-Man archives!” Mark laughed a little under his breath, picking absently at a grain of rice. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Lucas smiled into his own cup of tea, taking a sip. “Maybe that’s something you should tell him.”

Telling Hendery that he’s happy being his roommate no matter how crazy his friends are turned out to be easier said than done, though, for more reasons beyond the fact that Mark wanted to do some decidedly non-platonic things with him.

Hendery was on-edge. That much was clear. He was jumpy where he used to be relaxed around Mark, constantly casting searching glances his way that Mark couldn’t manage to parse out. It left Mark feeling a bit like he was walking on eggshells suddenly, like he was going behind Hendery’s back if he texted Dejun for class notes or met up with Lucas—Mark’s third true friend since starting college—for food.

It was stressful and, admittedly, it hurt, mostly because Mark didn’t get the point of it. He’d already met Lucas and Dejun, there was no going back from that. They hung out now. They got along! Dejun was chill while Lucas and Mark arguably shared a single brain cell when put together.

If anything, though, that seemed to make things worse. It got to the point where Mark did the only thing he could think to: shove everything into a neat little mental box and act like nothing was wrong. Because, really, it was either that or them _both_ failing their finals for being too distracted.

That’s not to say it didn’t bother Mark, though. It did. It bothered him enough that even once break started, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Snap out of it, kid!” Baekhyun called just before a stupid pumpkin shaped bomb went off and blasted Mark into the street, pavement cracking from the impact.

“Sorry!” Mark shouted back, rubble shifting around him as he pushed himself up with a groan.

 _Focus,_ he told himself. _Focus, focus, focus!_

Not that that little mantra helped much. Mark spent the rest of that fight—and most of his break—running around in his spider-suit, getting his ass kicked before he finally managed to take villains down, too distracted to be efficient.

“Relationship troubles?” Daniel asked him one bitterly early morning, munching down on a street vendor hot dog, red cape billowing majestically in the evening breeze, first rays of sun catching on the metal plating of his Asgardian armor. 

Mark, perched on the side of the building they were chilling on, cheek resting against his knees, sighed. Winter break had come and gone, and suddenly there were two days before he had to return to school. _That_ would make it nearly two weeks since he’d last gotten more than a one-word text from Hendery whenever he messaged asking about how his break was going, or how being back in California was.

“Sort of? He—he’s just a friend, but, well,” Mark trailed off, wincing at the whine clear in his tone. He sounded like a child, felt like one too—though he liked to think he got _some_ maturity points for being a fully capable hero. “Things have just been weird lately. Kinda tense.”

“So...” Daniel paused, swallowed, “...relationship troubles.”

Mark made a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a dying wail, curling forward fully where he was perched to hug his knees.

“Do you like this boy?” Daniel asked, tilting his head with an endearingly curious frown. “Is that why this is bothering you so?”

Under his mask, Mark bit his lip, feeling shy at admitting this truth to someone else other than Donghyuck, even if it was someone far removed from his personal life. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”

“And you are friends?”

Mark sighed. “Yeah.”

“Then why don’t you just tell him you like him and would like to cour—date him, then?”

Mark groaned softly, knocking his forehead against his knees with a dull thud—a small part of his brain wondering when he’d become so comfortable hanging off the edges of buildings hundreds of feet above the ground.

“It’s just,” he started, picking idly at his suit, “not that easy.”

Daniel scrunched his nose down at him, polishing off the rest of his snack, licking the grease from his fingers. Mark absently wondered if a god's spit was somehow cleaner than a mortals.

“Humans. Always making things more complicated than necessary.”

 _Like you and your brother-not-brother?_ Mark didn’t point out, pouting behind the safety of his mask. He had _some_ self-preservation skills after all, thank you very much.

“Why, I remember once, I was trying to court this lovely Vanir maiden, and my brother Seongwu transformed me into a frog, and—”

Before Mark could intercede with a proper rebuttal to explain that things _really were_ different here, though—life-threatening or otherwise—a beep came from both their comms and then Baekhyun’s voice, tinny and loud, was yelling in their ears.

 _“Daniel, kid, where the hell are you two?”_ Baekhyun demanded, breathing hard and cursing sharply, the loud sound of metal crunching and concrete crumbling ringing in the background, _“I’ve been trying to reach you for ten minutes now!”_ He briefly cut off, the whistle of a short range missile shrieking by, the harsh blast of a building being destroyed quickly following. _“We need help downtown, fast!”_

Mark floundered for a bit, startled off balance and almost tipping too far forward on his precarious perch. Daniel, reflexes warrior quick and effortlessly strong, plucked him up by the back of his suit, holding him in the air like a mother would their kitten. Embarrassing? Yes. Appreciated? Also yes!

“Apologies, Iron Man, we were having a ‘breakfast dog’—that’s what you called it, right, Mark?—and didn’t receive any of your earlier calls,” Daniel said, putting Mark down in place of Mjolnir, stepping up to the edge of the building, starting to swing his hammer in a whirring circle, storm clouds gathering overhead. “We’ll be there in a moment.”

 _“Didn’t recei- shit, must’ve been jammed earlier,_ ” Baekhyun grumbled, audio turning to crushed static on his end from the rumble of another explosion. _“Anyway, downtown. Stat. Jongin just got his star-spangled ass smacked into a high-rise and I need back-up, now._ ”

“On our way, hyung!” Mark agreed, already launching himself into the air with Baekhyun’s fond snort in the background, aiming and firing his web-shooter.

 _“I told you, kid, you don’t need to call me that._ ” More static, a resonant metal _clang-clang-clang_ that was probably Jongin’s shield, and a sharp curse hissed under Baekhyun’s breath. “ _Guns blazing when you get here, ‘kay? See you soon!_ ”

Mark swung from building to building, heart pounding with adrenaline as he picked up speed, trying to force his thoughts about Hendery towards the back of his mind in preparation for the fight they were heading into.

_‘Why don’t you just tell him you like him then?’_

Mark sighed, heart aching dully. If only things were that simple.

🕸️

“I mean,” Lucas said a few days later, when they were back in the dorms, eating fast food from take-out bags while the two of them tried to power through their Lit Analysis homework, “It _could_ be that easy.”

Mark made a sound of outright distress, strangled and high in his throat. “You _know_ it can’t be.” He hadn’t spent the past hour recounting his conversation with Daniel—a few key omissions here and there—to have Lucas _agree_ with the god. “I mean, I don’t even know if he likes me back.”

“Trust me,” Lucas snorted, tossing a fry into his mouth, “He likes you well enough.”

Mark felt his neck and ears heat up and knew he was turning an embarrassing shade of pink. “He likes me as a friend, and as a roommate. This is different.”

Lucas stared at him like he was being particularly stupid, which was honestly just insulting. Lucas had been covered in decoration supplies when they first properly met. He’d eaten almost half a Costco sized tub of peanut butter for a bet. He’d put on a horse head mask and spider crawled up the walls and down the hall of their dorm building, terrorizing his friends and cackling the whole while, just because he could. He didn’t get to judge.

Lucas reached a long, thieving arm across the little Ikea coffee table Mark and Hendery had bought at half-price and crammed into a corner of their already cramped room, swiping Mark’s soda to take an obnoxiously loud sip. “Fine, play dense. If you’re not planning to do anything about your _feelings_ ,” this was said with an infuriatingly smug smile and a waggle of his fingers, “then why’re you even freaking out about it?”

Mark sighed, dropping his head down to his textbook with a muted _thunk_. “Because he’s avoiding me.”

Silence followed his statement, the soft hum of their room’s heating unit whirring in the background, layered with the usual sounds of city noise dulled by the closed windows. Then Lucas was slamming his hand down on the table, startling Mark into looking up.

Lucas was staring at him with a wide-eyed frown, and Mark found himself unconsciously leaning back.

“He’s what?”

“Uh, avoiding me?”

“That coward,” Lucas hissed.

Mark titled his head, officially confused. “What?”

“I swear,” Lucas continued, pulling out his phone and tapping at it with furious jabs, mumbling more to himself than anything. “Trying to avoid us hanging out is one thing, but this,” he huffed, “One step forward and two fucking steps back.”

“I—” Mark blinked. “I’m gonna be honest. I’m very confused right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas told him, grunting when his phone buzzed with an incoming text, “Look, Hendery’s an idiot. We teased him about something and I think he got it into his head that we told you.”

“Told me what?” Mark asked, still very confused, shivering lightly, a cool drip easing down his spine.

“Uhhh,” Lucas looked up at him then, “Nothing.”

Mark frowned, shivering again, not paying it much attention. “What do you mean ‘nothing’? If he’s ignoring me for it then it’s not nothi—”

Footsteps. There were footsteps outside the door, a familiar, tired shuffle. Old converse over even older carpeting. A student ID being tapped against the lock a few times, the plastic too cold to register against the card reader.

Mark’s breath hitched, vision warping until he shifted his gaze towards the front door, spidey sense pulling his attention where it wanted.

 _Hendery_.

“Mark?” Lucas asked, staring at Mark like he’d lost it. “You good?”

Mark laughed, a string of perfect _hahaha’s_ while he glanced nervously at the door, hearing the card reader beep and the lock disengage with a _snick_. “Um, yeah, fine, I just—”

And then Hendery was walking in, shaking out his hair with a frustrated huff.

“It’s fucking freezing out,” he grumbled under his breath, seemingly talking to himself, “Mark was right, I should’ve taken a heavier ja—oh,” Hendery went still, finally looking up, eyes going owl-round as he looked between Mark and Lucas, visibly registering that he wasn’t alone in the room. “Uh, hey.”

He looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights, an expression Mark and Lucas were probably mirroring. Absently, Mark thanked his spidey sense for being so hopelessly tuned to Hendery’s very being. The last thing he wanted was for Hendery to walk in on them gossiping about him and Mark’s own floundering affection.

“Hi,” Mark said, digging his nails into his thighs out of sight when his voice came out _way_ breathier than intended. _Dammit, Lee_. “Um, I’m not sure if you’ve had dinner yet, but they didn’t have anything good in the dining hall today so we ordered in.” He held up the take-out bag. “Got you a burger, with cheese, no onions, and some truffle fries.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Hendery said, shifting on his feet like he was two seconds away from darting back out the door, his already taken off shoes be damned.

It hurt Mark in ways he didn’t want to admit, heart aching sweetly as he watched the boy he liked try and decide whether to run away from him or not—knowing that he wouldn’t try to stop him if he did, at risk of stressing Hendery out even more.

Lucas, though, shared none of those concerns. He gave Hendery a narrow-eyed stare and told him in no uncertain terms: “If you run, I’ll catch you.”

Hendery sputtered, a delicate flush staining his cheeks a lovely pink, matching the cold-bitten shade of his nose. It was painfully cute. 

“I wasn’t gonna run!” He cleared his throat, gingerly setting his bookbag down and jerkily walking over to join them after shucking off his jacket, tossing it onto the already messy pile of winter coats gathered by the door. Mark quickly cleared a space, smiling up at him as Hendery hesitantly lowered himself to the floor. “Just a little surprised is all. Didn’t realize you were here, _Lucas_. Didn’t mention that in your messages.”

Lucas smiled at him like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, propping his chin on his hand and batting his lashes. “Didn’t realize it was important.”

“We can work on homework somewhere else, though,” Mark hurried to say, eager to please and right whatever had shifted in their friendship to make Hendery so uneasy. “If you wanted the dorm to yourself, that is.”

Hendery jumped a little, frowning, bottom lip out in a small, pink pout as he turned to Mark on instinct to respond. It had Mark sitting up straighter and leaning forward, a flower unfurling in the face of the sun.

“No, no, it’s fine, really.” His expression seemed to melt a little as he looked at Mark—their knees bumping under the small table, the tiny bit of contact lighting up Mark’s senses—before he seemed to remember that looking Mark in the eye was off-limits for some reason and flicked his gaze away as if burned. 

“Like I said, I was just surprised.” He swallowed, the movement given away by the bob of his Adam’s apple, his fingers nervously plucking at the plastic of the take-out bag on the table in front of him while he darted a quick glance and short smile Mark’s way. “Thanks for getting me dinner.”

“Mhm,” Mark mumbled dumbly, unable to form anything more coherent in the face of his sudden hyper-awareness about how _close_ Hendery actually was. 

Of how his body heat was seeping through the fabric of their pants, warming Mark’s knee. Or how Mark could pick out the faint freckles dusting Hendery’s nose from growing up in the California sun. Or the dampness from being out in soft snowfall followed by the sweat-inducing walk up to their third floor dorm in slightly too-warm halls, moisture curling the strands and turning them even darker. Little things that his memory hadn’t managed to do justice.

The only thing ruining it all was the tight, palpable tension thrumming through Hendery’s entire body. 

Mark flexed his hands in his lap, wiping his palms over his knees to try and dispel the damp, clammy feel that had gathered there. He cleared his throat, willing more sensible sounds to form in his mouth. “It was no problem at all, we were ordering anyway.”

“Oh, cool. Good.”

Mark rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, making a high, strained laugh that was more a distressed puff of breath than anything. “Yeah.”

And then silence. Painful, awkward silence, with nothing but the occasional clicking of the dorm’s heater to break it.

A minute passed. Then two. And three. Mark drummed his fingers on his knees, clearing his throat and promptly reaching out to shove a handful of fries in his mouth for something, anything to do to lessen the crawl of discomfort over his shoulders. Four minutes. Five—

“Oh for the love of—” Lucas huffed out an exasperated breath, startling both Hendery and Mark into looking up at him and popping the bubble of tension that had been growing with a consternated frown. “Seriously?”

Mark stared at him, eyes round, heart galloping from the sudden volume of Lucas’ voice in the previously thick silence. Hendery had jolted into a straight-backed position, too, shoulders hitching up around his ears, blinking rapidly under furrowed brows.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Lucas demanded again, sharp gaze fixed on Hendery.

“What?” Hendery asked, immediately going on the defensive.

“What’re you, five?” 

Hendery reared back, scoffing. “I— _what?_ ”

“You heard me,” Lucas said, eyes narrowing, leaning his chest forward over the table. Hendery, still sputtering like an offended cat, mirrored the action. “You’re behaving like a child.”

Hendery scoffed, whatever nervousness he’d been feeling from being around Mark temporarily slipping away in the face of rising up to defend himself, years of friendship with Lucas clearly resulting in a strong knee-jerk reaction to certain opening jabs.

“ _I’m_ behaving like a child? _You’re_ the one picking a fight in my dorm. I haven’t even _done_ anything!”

Lucas threw his hands up in the air, long flailing limbs coming dangerously close to knocking over the precarious pile of Mark’s textbooks stacked behind him, his eyes wide with an intensity Mark had only seen during very heated discussions about their latest show binge. “Exactly!”

“I—you—” Hendery gripped the edge of their cheap coffee table and gave it a small shake. “That doesn’t make _any sense!_ ”

Mark watched in morbid fascination as Lucas brought his elbow down on the table—narrowly missing his piddly bit of remaining burger—not even wincing despite how much that action had to have hurt, pointing an accusing finger at Hendery’s face.

“You’ve been avoiding Mark.”

Mark made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a nervous squawk, staring at Lucas in panic. Hendery went deathly still, expression frozen with his eyes the size of quarters. Lucas kept frowning, staring Hendery down in a way Mark hadn’t really seen before.

He looked...serious. A little worried—in the pressed back corners of his mouth, the slightly faster heave of his chest—but serious.

It was honestly kinda flattering that it was on Mark’s behalf, since the last person to defend his honor on anything had been Donghyuck—using _waaay_ more side-jabs at Mark in the process than was necessary. But, Mark was also panicking because _what the fuck dude?_ If he’d known Lucas would snap and confront Hendery with Mark present he wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“No I haven’t,” Hendery croaked, back held ram-rod straight, grip on the table’s edge going white-knuckled.

Mark’s heart dropped. Hendery was a bad liar.

Lucas stared at him with so much tired disapproval it was kind of impressive. “If Mark’s saying you have, then I believe him.” Mark yelped out a sharp “ _Lucas!_ ” that went entirely ignored, Lucas evidently done with both of them tip-toeing around each other. “You’re being a bad friend, Hen.”

“Wha—I—I’ve been busy!” Hendery sputtered, darting the quickest of glances in Mark’s direction, voice cracking and pitching up into an octave Mark hadn’t heard him make before.

Lucas rolled his eyes in a perfect circle, something Mark had only ever seen his cousin, and recently Dejun, do. “Sure, ‘busy’.”

Mark felt his neck and ears burn in mortification while Hendery looked ready to run again.

 _Fuck, should I intervene?_

_Could_ he intervene?

“This isn’t any of your business, Lucas,” Hendery hissed, eyes narrowing.

Mark jumped. Intervene, he should intervene.

Lucas made a noise of disbelief high in his throat. “See, this kind of _is_ my business now,” he said, progressively leaning more of his weight against the coffee table, “since _both of you_ use me as a relationship counselor, and _you_ have been acting like an _absolute child_ over something that hasn’t even happen—”

“ _Lucas!_ ”

“Oka _aay_ ,” Mark said loudly, feeling a stress sweat start at his armpits, one hand shooting out to land on Hendery’s knee without thinking—grip probably too tight in his panic (though Hendery didn’t shake it off)—the other slamming down on the table-top in a too-loud smack. 

God, this was more nerve wracking than being a hero. 

“No fighting,” he told them. “We’re literally all friends here. And Lucas?”

Lucas kept up the stupid staring contest he was holding with Hendery, frown to frown. “Yeah?”

“Not cool, man, not cool.”

At that, Lucas had the decency to turn towards Mark, expression melting into something gentler—more mellow and apologetic, eyes softening and tightness along his brows easing at the chastisement. He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back off the table which creaked lightly in relief, the growing tension in the room lifting with a sigh felt not heard. 

Well, most of it, at least.

“Sorry,” he said, then, with a quick, sharp glance to Hendery, who’d been slowly relaxing into a tired slouch like a marionette who’s strings had been cut: “Not to you, though.”

“Hey!”

“No, no, no,” Mark bodily cut in, leaning over the table to force Lucas’ attention back on him, hiding his expression from Hendery in the process. “Seriously, no more. Eat your fries and play nice, dude.”

Lucas eyed him, registering the nervy desperation Mark was trying to silently broadcast and giving in with an acquiescent huff.

“Fine, fine.” He leaned to the side to address Hendery, still looking like he had more to say but holding his tongue. “Sorry, Hendery.”

Behind Mark, Hendery grumbled out a moderately petulant, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Mark sunk back into a seated position, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, oxygen rushing sweetly back into his lungs on his next measured inhale.

Disaster avoided. Sorta. Mostly. Kinda?

…He’d be having words with Lucas later.

🕸️

“I’m sorry.”

Mark jumped, turning around from where he was getting ready for bed, shirt half on, arms tangled and stretching the cloth. He and Hendery had finally chased Lucas off to his own dorm an hour ago, the mood amongst them better by the end of the evening even if it wasn’t quite as easy as it was before Hendery had started his No-Mark campaign. 

Mark was exhausted and ready to collapse on his holy Tempur-Pedic mattress topper, which meant the best he could manage from his awkward position and last dregs of brain power was a very articulate, “Huh?”

 _Spot on, Lee, spot on_.

Hendery’s eyes strayed down to Mark’s chest for a swift second before snapping back up, the action quick enough that Mark had to take a second to decide whether he’d really seen it or not. 

“Um,” Hendery fiddled with the strings of his sleep shorts—a well-worn pair of basketball shorts that drove Mark _insane_ because of how high they tended to hike up Hendery’s legs, “For, you know, making you feel like I was avoiding you.”

“Oh, uh,” Mark stumbled a little, knees buckling, thoroughly caught off guard. He didn’t think Hendery would bring this up of his own volition after Lucas dropped the topic. “I mean,” Mark finished putting on his shirt, his fingertips going cold from how he’d been keeping his arms up, “It uh, hah, it’s not like it was on purpose, right?”

Hendery nibbled at his lip, ducking his head down a bit, bangs falling in a soft shift over his eyes. “Right.”

Mark cleared his throat, mirroring Hendery’s posture without thinking, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Hendery wasn’t looking at him, but Mark didn’t need to see his eyes to know there was guilt resting there.

Hendery really wasn’t a good liar. He always gave it away in some way, whether with a smile or a nervous glance. Now, though, it was the way he was carefully looking away from Mark and the the slight rise in tone as he spoke.

But that was okay. Mark was okay with it. Really.

“They haven’t told me anything weird,” Mark said, shifting on his feet, toes curling into the thin, hard carpeting the dorm came floored with. “Dejun and Lucas I mean. Like,” he glanced up, breath catching in his chest and heart leap-frogging up into his throat when he wound up meeting Hendery’s wide gaze, dark eyes glittering with the low light from the desk lamp Mark still had on to get changed with, “if that’s what you were worried about, they really haven’t.”

Hendery looked stricken for a moment, brows drawing up and together. Mark wanted to reach out and smooth a thumb over his forehead. He wanted to ease away the creases, the worry.

“I—” Hendery took a small breath, slumping down onto the edge of his bed with a huffed out sigh, finally looking up at Mark again, “I know.”

Mark offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, worried that maybe a little too much feeling slipped in. A little too much non-platonic affection.

Mark held out his fist, watching Hendery eye it with warmth suffusing his chest. “We cool then?”

Hendery snorted, a smile tugging at his mouth until he couldn’t hold it back anymore, his lips parting to reveal a flash of teeth and a low laugh that seemed just this side of disbelieving.

He shook his head in a way that felt like it was more at himself than Mark’s ridiculous gesture, hair hanging in his face and swaying with the motion. When he stilled to meet Mark’s gaze again it was with a wide, fond smile and a sharp spark of determination glittering bright in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, really looking at Mark for the first time in what felt like forever. No flinching, or shying away. Just _, looking_. In a way that had happy heat skittering down Mark’s spine even as Hendery raised his arm to bump fists with him, another half-laugh, half-snort escaping in a helpless huff. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

🕸️

Things got marginally better after that little nighttime talk.

Hendery stopped actively avoiding Mark and dipping from every social interaction Mark was involved in. He still wouldn’t spend a whole lot of time in their dorm without anyone else there, but he’d go get lunch or dinner with Mark. They were back to walking to their morning classes together, picking up coffee from one of the campus cafes and sometimes Lucas or Dejun along the way.

Hendery was showing him the latest spidey news again, clicking through poorly shot videos of Spider-Man’s fights posted up on Youtube. He was even inviting Mark to hotpot and dim sum nights—courtesy of Dejun, who was, evidently, the dinner sugar daddy of the group.

Sure, Hendery was still nervy around him, not quite as comfortable as he used to be with his physical affection, more hesitant with his casual touches, but things were better.

It felt less like Mark had done something, and more like Hendery was working through a few things.

Donghyuck would tease him for being so easily pleased. Lucas and Dejun would call him whipped. Mark didn’t care.

If this meant he could give Hendery the small Christmas gift he’d put together—a spider crest from one of his older models of web-shooters that he’d turned into a keychain—then Mark was happy. Well, he was happy anyways, but this was a major plus.

Except…

“Wait, what do you mean Hendery isn’t here?”

Lucas and Dejun gave him twin looks of, _‘Huh?’_ their mouths full from shoveling food in—probably a rushed lunch between classes if the way Dejun’s cheeks were bulging and Lucas was gripping his bottle of juice was anything to go by.

“Dude,” Mark said, brows furrowing, pulling out his phone and holding it up to show, “I messaged you.”

Lucas stared at him for a beat, gears in his head so clearly turning Mark almost had to laugh. Almost. When things finally clicked into place Lucas slapped a hand on the table before raising it to point at Mark, eyes going startlingly wide.

“Mm!”

“Swallow first or you’ll choke,” Dejun chided, a hand raised to cover his own still mostly full mouth—because he couldn’t be called a hypocrite if Lucas couldn’t see. Actual words Mark had heard spoken.

Lucas did as told, following up with a small cough to clear his throat, turning back to Mark with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man, he left, like, a few minutes ago.”

“Twenty.”

Lucas and Mark looked over at Dejun. “What?”

“He left twenty minutes ago,” he clarified.

Lucas and Mark looked back at each other.

“Oh,” Lucas laughed, wincing, “Oops?”

Mark raked a frustrated hand through his hair with a groan, knowing that he was messing up the comma-hair styling he’d so carefully done before leaving but not caring because this fucking _sucked_. “Lucas!”

“Sorry!”

Another groan. “Do you know where he went? Did he say?”

“Shopping,” Dejun told him, spearing another forkful of salad. “I think. He mentioned going to pick something up.”

Mark pressed his lips in a line, sighing out his nose. “Damn.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “You wouldn’t happen to know _where_ he went shopping, would you?”

Dejun narrowed his eyes a fraction up at Mark—the expression still somehow intimidating despite the way his hair was standing up in soft brown tufts from the beanie Mark could see tucked in his jacket pocket, taken off while indoors.

“No...why do you wanna know?”

“He had a grand plan to give Hendery his late Christmas gift today, then spend their day together since they don’t have classes,” Lucas said with a snicker and a grin.

“Ohhh,” Dejun said, looking to Lucas and ignoring the way Mark was sputtering to the side, eyebrows going up and mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. He twisted in his seat to face Mark fully, arms propped on their table and sugary smile curling at his lips. “How _cute_.”

That was _exactly_ what Yuqi had said when he’d let slip what he was planning while picking up his new costume the other day (he’d reached out to her after the Halloween party and they’d hit it off immediately, especially when he’d put her in touch with Baekhyun, securing her an exclusive design contract with the Avengers). It was no less embarrassing coming from her, than it was coming from Dejun now with his smug little grin.

 _I have horrible friends_.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Mark sighed, feeling his face heat up but valiantly charging on. “I’ll just,” he waved a hand in the air and made a vague noise in his throat—the equivalent of a defeated _‘I don’t know’_ , “give it to him later. I guess.”

“Cheer up, man,” Lucas said, giving Mark a pitying smile and body rattling pat on the shoulder, taking advantage of his monstrous reach. _His arms are probably longer than Jongin’s_ and _Daniel’s_ , Mark thought, _Kyungsoo would be jealous_. “He’ll just be happy getting a gift from you.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Dejun snorted, “I guarantee you, getting a gift from you would—”

Before he could finish that train of thought, their phones all blared with area alerts, cutting him off and sufficiently derailing their conversation. Around them, other people’s phones were going off as well, the noise cacophonous with how it was echoing and mixing with the already present hum of students chatting.

“Oh shit, power outages,” Lucas said with _way_ too much excitement. He looked up, all glittering eyes and shining smile. “Think class’ll be cancelled?”

Dejun raised an eyebrow at him, patently unimpressed. “I don’t know, why don’t you take a look around. Did the lights go out here?”

Mark tried to hide a laugh behind a cough while Lucas blinked, realized what Dejun was getting at, and wilted with a pout.

“Damn.”

Mark did laugh, then.

He ended up using that as his segue to dip, not wanting to take up anymore of Lucas and Dejun’s lunch time if Hendery wasn’t there, even with them insisting that it was fine. Mark’s Avengers’ comm was beeping at him anyway, though, so he figured it was as good a time as any to exit stage left and change into his spidey gear—since his plans to spend the day with Hendery were nixed anyway.

He was trotting across the quad, breath puffing out in front of him in little clouds, cold, late-January air nipping at his nose and ears, when his phone rang.

Mark frowned, fumbling for it with chilled fingers while still jogging along, weaving around the occasional person in his path. He’d expected to see Baekhyun’s name flashing along the screen, or maybe Chanyeol’s—Baekhyun’s very excitable, generally friendly assistant and Mark’s unofficial handler—thinking that maybe the other hero had gotten tired of waiting for Mark to respond to being paged and decided to take a more direct route. Instead, it was Hendery’s name staring back at him.

Mark’s heart skipped a stupid beat. He swiped his thumb to answer so fast he almost sent his phone tumbling to its icy demise.

“Hello?”

_“Mark?”_

“Hey, Hen,” Mark said, trying not to sound like he was smiling like a fool and probably failing. “What’s up?”

_“I need help.”_

Mark skidded to a halt, nearly slipping if it weren’t for his reflexes quickly correcting his balance.

Hendery sounded wrong. He sounded stressed. _Scared_. He was speaking low, close to a whisper, his voice watery and words shaky. It sent panic galloping through Mark’s body in a vicious stampede, sudden and all-consuming, his heart drumming out a frantic beat.

“What happened?” Mark asked, tone slipping into hero mode without thinking, focused only on the gasping breath Hendery sucked in on the other end of the line. “Hendery, where are you? What happened?”

 _“I—I went to—to pick so—something up from a friend and—oh_ fuck! _”_

There was a loud groan, the sound crackling through the line. Mark’s stomach dropped.

“Hendery?”

 _“I’m in an elevator,”_ he said in a breathless rush. _“The power went out and I’m in an elevator and I think it’s gonna fall.”_

Mark was running before he even had a direction to go in.

“Did you call fire rescue?” Mark asked, pulling out his web-shooters and clasping them on. “Does anyone else know you’re there?”

 _“I tried,”_ Hendery said, voice pitching up into what could only be described as a terrified whine, the sound leaving Mark’s chest aching even as he vaulted over a bench to a smattering of applause and a shouted, “Parkour!” _“The call wouldn’t go through though. I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I just—you were the first person I thought of after and—”_

“It’s alright,” Mark breathed, ducking down an ally between two campus buildings and changing into his super suit faster than he ever had in his life. “It’s alright. I’m glad you called.” He yanked down his mask and stuck his backpack high up against the wall with a burst of webs—out of sight and safe for now. Then, he pulled up the GPS tracker Baekhyun had installed in his suit, the new logo Yuqi had designed blinking briefly on-screen before the digital view of his mask faded away and the GPS directions overlaid on top of his surroundings, covering everything in a faint green-lined glow. “I’m coming to get you, can you stay on the line?”

Hendery made a noise of confusion. In the background the elevator groaned again.

“Hendery, can you stay on the line?”

_“I—Yeah. Yes. But—”_

“Good,” Mark said, aiming his web-shooters and launching himself skyward, ignoring the beeping of Avengers summons. If it was something big, Baekhyun would make sure to let him know. And even if it was, well...this was _Hendery_. “Talk to me, then.”

And Hendery did. He kept up a running stream of muted conversation while Mark swung from perch to perch, flying over streets that had been sent into a black-out induced chaos.

It was probably selfish of Mark to be ignoring everyone else that could need help right now in his beeline for Hendery—his location a bright red dot on the map laid out for him—but Mark didn’t care. If he didn’t get to be selfish now, for the person he liked, then when could he be?

He couldn’t abandon Hendery when he knew he was in danger in the same way he wouldn’t cut the call when it was clear Hendery’s breathing was slowly starting to even out while he talked. That he was gradually relaxing as much as he could while telling Mark everything and anything that came to mind—what he did during winter break, his favorite surf spots in Cali, how his sister was planning to open a cafe, how his family asked about Mark.

 _“They asked about you a lot, actually,”_ Hendery admitted quietly, only a slight hitch in his breath and quiver in his voice when he spoke now. _“Especially when Lucas came over. I think they want to meet you now.”_

Mark huffed out a laugh at that, feeling a smile take over despite himself, despite the situation.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Mark swung into the right neighborhood, taking a few more precious minutes to pick out the right building.

Finding it, he landed hard on the fire escape, jostling some old snow off, panting lightly.

“Hendery, what floor are you on?”

_“Wha—you’re here? How—”_

“Floor, Hen, what floor?”

 _“I was coming down from—uh,”_ a high metallic whine followed by a foreboding groan cut through. _“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”_ Hendery spat, a tremor in his voice Mark could almost feel, _“Tenth, I was coming down from tenth.”_

“Okay,” Mark tensed his thighs, launching himself up onto the wall, scaling it until he reached the tenth floor, pulling open a window leading into the apartment building’s hallway. It was empty and mostly quiet, and Mark realized people would probably be out for the day—at work, or school—and that’s why no one could hear the sound of Hendery banging against the metal doors for help. “Hold on, Hendery,” he told him, running down the dark hall and skidding to a stop in front of the elevator doors. He could hear the cables in the elevator shaft twanging from here, now, the machinery inside whining as something in its workings got ready to give. “Just hold on.”

_“Mark.”_

Mark dug his fingers in between the elevator doors, whole body going tense as he pried the heavy metal open with a grunt, the gears and mechanisms inside actively resisting his manual override.

Where the hallway was dark, the elevator shaft was like a peek into the abyss, none of the track lights on and the bleak rays of daylight unable to penetrate far enough into the building to reach. If Mark wasn’t who he was—no, even with his heightened senses, if he didn’t have Baekhyun’s tech, he wouldn’t be able to see the metal clamps coming loose from the elevator’s pulley system, old and rusted and apparently pushed to their limit with the sudden stop they had to make.

“You’re gonna feel the elevator shake,” Mark warned, firing webs down to where the elevator was precariously hanging, then across to the opposite side of the elevator shaft, and then lastly to the elevator cables so he could pull them within reach. “Hold on to the hand rail.”

Hendery grunted a low, _“Okay,”_ pausing before asking, _“What’re you going to do?”_

Mark took a steadying breath. He’d have a lot of explaining to do when this was done and Hendery was safe, but...but that was fine. It was a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.

“I’m gonna save you,” he said, putting as much conviction in his voice as possible. “I promise.”

And then he pulled.

Elevators were, in fact, very, _very_ heavy, Mark realized quickly. Even with his strength, it was more of a struggle than he’d been expecting to haul the whole car up, his breathing coming out labored and his muscles straining. It didn’t help that the elevator was catching and dragging against the shaft’s metal-lined concrete walls, grating and loud and refusing to budge when it got stuck on a ledge.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mark hissed. He tugged again, it didn’t move. The elevator car was still a floor down—an improvement from the starting five—but unless Mark crawled into the shaft and pulled from directly above it, it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere anymore. “Okay,” Mark mumbled to himself, “Okay, new plan.”

He whipped up a quick system of webs, trapping the elevator car where it was and carefully climbing down, wary of the pulley mechanism groaning overhead. Yanking open the slightly rusted access door in the elevator car’s roof to Hendery’s startled yelp, Mark lowered himself down slowly, landing light on his feet, holding still for a beat while the elevator swayed.

“Spider-Man?” Hendery half-shouted, jaw hanging open, phone still held up to his ear in a white-knuckled grip. “Where’s Mark?”

Mark blinked up at him, then remembered that he was wearing a mask and that it would be more amazing if Hendery managed to guess that it was him under there, even given the circumstances, than to not. It was reasonably unbelievable, after all. Mark was plenty self-aware. He knew he was lowkey, unlike Baekhyun who wore attention like a second skin, or Daniel who walked around like the god he was, always smiling magnanimously.

So without a second thought, Mark took it off, watching the exact moment Hendery processed his face in the dark, the glow from his phone casting across both of them now that it was hanging from a hand gone limp.

“Holy shit.”

“Uh, hi,” Mark said, trying a smile and wave and feeling ridiculously awkward for it. He cleared his throat, nodding towards Hendery’s phone—the poor device about two seconds away from slipping between Hendery’s fingers. “You, uh, can hang up now.”

Hendery made an odd little noise in the back of his throat. “Right,” he said weakly, regaining proper hold on his phone and ending the call, slipping it into his pocket.

“Okay, so, I’m gonna carry you out,” Mark paused, bit his lip, “Are you good with that?”

Hendery just stared.

“Hendery? Um, this elevator wants to give, so we should probably…” Mark trailed off, gesturing vaguely upwards at the hatch he’d slipped in through.

“Right,” Hendery said again, still staring intensely, eyes tracing over Mark’s form, lingering on the spider symbol displayed proudly on his chest. His gaze finally drifted back up to meet Mark’s, glittering with something Mark couldn’t quite place. He stepped forward into Mark’s space, close enough that Mark could feel his breath puffing lightly across his mouth, his chin—uneven and stuttery, still stressed. “Right.”

Mark felt a bit dazed with how Hendery was looking at him—like he was something amazing, something unbelievable—but he forced himself to work through it, the elevator groaning in warning around them. He helped boost Hendery up and out of the hatch above them, hopping out next, steadying Hendery when the elevator swayed beneath their combined weight.

Hendery whimpered, gripping on tight to the hand Mark had offered.

“Almost there,” Mark told him.

Once Mark got them back out of the shaft and on solid ground, Hendery’s knees gave out from under him, Mark just managing to catch him before he could land hard on the worn down hallway carpeting, lowering him gently the rest of the way down.

There was a high whine and snap, then, bits of the elevator’s mechanism falling past the open maw of the elevator shaft behind them and clanking against the elevator car below, one of the heavy wire cables tumbling by shortly after.

“Holy fuck,” Hendery whispered, clinging tight to Mark’s arms, nails digging into Mark’s biceps through the material of his super suit while he stared into the darkness of the shaft.

“Glad I got here when I did,” Mark said, laughing lightly, the sound only mildly awkward. He turned to face Hendery. “You okay?”

Hendery didn’t move. “Holy _fuck_.”

Mark frowned. A shiver danced down his spine, and in the corner of his eye, his vision warped and wobbled—his spidey sense alerting him to the cautious steps of the few residents still at home now nearing their doors, likely drawn to the commotion they’d made.

 _We have to go_ , Mark thought, yanking his mask back on and glancing around, trying to decide the best route to slip away.

Hendery was going pale, though, body refusing to budge even as Mark attempted to gently coax him to his feet.

“Hendery.”

“I almost died.”

“Hendery, we kinda have to go.”

He turned to look at Mark. “And you’re Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, I am, and I can explain more later, but we really have to g—”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Wait, no, no, no—”

And then, instead of throwing up, Hendery passed out.

Mark stared down at the unconscious young man in his arms, and promptly let out a panicked wheeze.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!”

🕸️

Turned out, flinging yourself around like a city based Tarzan was significantly harder to do while carrying someone else.

Mark managed, though.

He got him and Hendery out of the building and to an adjacent rooftop, huddling close to Hendery’s prone form in an attempt to block the cold while he waited for Hendery to wake up. 

There were messages beeping for his attention that had gone ignored—one from Baekhyun, asking where he was and if he could help with something, two from Kyungsoo, asking if he was okay, and one from Yuqi, wondering if it was Hendery he just got caught on camera carrying around. Mark answered them, tugging Hendery close when the wind blew threw particularly strong, trying his best to keep Hendery warm in the January chill.

He was mid text conversation with Yuqi—who was _laughing_ at him—when Hendery finally stirred where he was tucked against Mark’s chest.

“Hi,” Mark said meekly, taking his mask off again to offer up a small smile as Hendery drowsily pushed himself up into a seated position. “You feeling better?”

Hendery rubbed his eyes, sneezed, and then stared at Mark like he thought he might be a hallucination.

“That wasn’t a dream.”

“Haha, uh, no,” Mark rubbed the back of his neck, crossing his legs under himself and sitting forward. “That wasn’t a dream.”

“You’re really Spider-Man.”

It wasn’t put forth like a question, but Mark answered it anyway. 

“I am.”

“Holy shit.” Hendery clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide. Mark braced himself, already wincing. “You’ve seen all my photos of you!”

Mark froze. “Huh?”

“Fuck,” Hendery groaned, scrubbing at his face and hair with his hands. “That’s so embarrassing, dude. _Shit_.”

“Um…what?”

“God,” Hendery continued, face and ears bright pink, the flush crawling down the bit of neck Mark could see. “You must think I’m such a fucking weirdo.”

“What? No!” Mark said, voice a bit too loud, causing Hendery to jump. “I—” Mark cleared his throat with a cough, “I thought it was cu—cool. I thought it was cool.”

Hendery sighed, hiding his face in his hands again, muffling his words when he spoke. “You don’t need to lie.”

Mark’s laugh this time was much more natural, more comfortable. He reached his hands out to tug at Hendery’s wrists, bringing his flushed face back into view.

“I’m not lying. Look,” he patted around the shallow pockets Baekhyun had added to his super suit in lieu of the multiple stolen backpacks littering Mark’s past—just enough so he could keep a dorm or house key on him at all times—letting out a small _aha!_ when he found what he was looking for. “If I thought you being a fan of Spider-Man was weird, I wouldn’t have gotten you this.”

He held up the keychain for Hendery to see, smiling when Hendery eyed it with growing interest.

“Is that from Spider-Man’s— _your_ version three web-shooters? The ones you used when fighting Green Goblin last April?”

“Uh, yeah. I think. I just remembered one of my old pairs had a removable crest and thought you might like it.” He paused. “Do you? Like it, I mean?”

Hendery accepted it with cupped hands and awe splashed across his face. “Holy shit, dude, this is—are you serious? I love it! Are you sure that—are you really giving me this?”

“Yeah, man,” Mark laughed, feeling his own face heating up. If Hendery asked, he’d blame it on the cold. Voice going softer—softer than was safe—Mark told him: “Merry Christmas.”

Hendery made a complicated noise in his throat—a mix of a trill and a gurgle—wide smile splitting his face. The wind whipped his soft hair across his eyes, and a few shy rays of sun poked through the gray clouds overhead, kissing the side of his face.

In that moment, Mark was sure he’d give Hendery the moon if he asked.

 _Beautiful_. Mark curled his hands into fists, hiding them in his lap, firmly pressing down the urge to reach out and touch. _So beautiful_.

“Wait,” Hendery said, shaking Mark from his reverie, hands quickly going for his own jacket pockets, pressing down on the white puffer that made him look like the world’s sweetest marshmallow as he missed the pocket openings the first few tries. “I have something for you too.”

He frowned as his cold fingers seemed to ignore what he wanted them to do, eventually crowing in victory and pulling out a small, velvet pouch. He shoved the pouch at Mark, eyes curved up from the force of his giddy smile, cheeks rosy and looking awfully kissable.

“Merry Christmas.”

Mark accepted the pouch, dazed and dumbstruck, opening it with gentle fingers.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he mumbled, shaking out whatever was inside into his palm. “I would’ve been happy with—” his breath caught in his throat when saw what was sitting in his hand, bits of sunlight catching and making it glitter against the red of his super suit. “Oh. _Dude_.”

“A friend of Yuqi’s makes jewelry. I know you were sad when the chain for the necklace your mom gave you broke, so,” Hendery shrugged, running a hand through his hair and stuttering when Mark looked up at him, something like awe filling Mark’s chest and leaving him winded. “I thought I could get it fixed for you,” he thumbed his new keychain, tracing the spider logo in the center, “Though, I probably should’ve asked if it was okay, first.”

“It’s okay,” Mark said, smile breaking out across his face. He huffed out a helpless laugh, brushing his fingers over the thin, freshly fixed gold chain and the simple latin cross glinting on it. God, he was in love. “It’s more than okay, it’s— _thank you_.”

Hendery rocked a little to the side, still smiling wide, teeth peeking out from behind slightly chapped lips.

“I still felt bad for,” he waved his hand in the air, “you know, everything. So, I wanted to try and do something a little special.”

Mark wanted to ask if that meant Hendery would be comfortable around him again, if they could go back to the equilibrium they were at before—even if what Mark wanted was _more_. But this wasn’t the time or place, and, honestly, Mark was so utterly smitten he was more than willing to take what he could get.

“I told you already we were good,” Mark said with a lopsided grin.

“I know but…” Hendery trailed off, fiddling with the keychain, nail digging into the grooves. A second of considering silence passed—Hendery pressing his lips into a line and Mark waiting to see if he was going to continue. And then Hendery was shaking his head, letting whatever he’d been going to say next slip away into the wind. “Anyway,” he said, starting over, flashing Mark a glittering grin, “Spider-Man, huh?”

Mark laughed, feeling bashful with the way Hendery was giving him a once-over again, hyper aware of the tight stick of his super suit. It was less intense than the first time when he’d dropped into the elevator, but still flustering all the same.

“Spider-Man,” he agreed.

Hendery hummed, smile looking like it wouldn’t be budging any time soon. In fact, he was bouncing a little, buzzing with a growing excitement that had Mark’s Request-He-Wouldn’t-Be-Able-To-Say-No-To alarms going off. “That means you know the other Avengers then.”

“Yeah,” Mark drew out, eyes narrowing a bit in wary preparation for whatever was coming next, “Why?”

Hendery pounced, leaning forward, hands moving to balance on Mark’s knees, absolutely _radiating_ excitement. “Then you know Iron Man! What’s he like? Is he as cool as he seems? Can you get me an autograph?”

Mark had never been more jealous of Baekhyun than in that moment. Which wasn’t fair, because he knew for a _fact_ that Baekhyun was a gremlin away from—well, even in front of the cameras, really, and it was just _embarrassing_ to be jealous of such a pure agent of chaos.

_And yet…_

“Sure,” Mark said, helpless in the face of Hendery’s enthusiasm. “I could do that.”

_What’s a little bruise to the ego, anyway, if it’ll make Hendery happy?_


	3. Interlude: Summer, Sophomore Year to Junior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Hendery forgot that Mark was a superhero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my friends who've read through this and helped to make it better! ❤︎

Sometimes, Hendery forgot that Mark was a superhero. 

He didn’t think that would be possible—considering how the realization that the boy of his dreams was also the fit, extraordinary hero Hendery had star eyes for, who swung through the streets in sleek spandex, was absolutely mind blowing—and yet, it happened. Often, if he was being honest.

Mark just...made it _easy_.

He didn’t change after letting Hendery in on his secret. They still sat on their dorm room floor, playing video games and munching through bags of snacks like gremlins. He still whined about classes and homework. He still let Hendery wheedle him into things. He was still kinda dorky, and fun, and sweet, and so _Mark_.

Sure, now Hendery knew where he disappeared to sometimes, and he got to hear about that half of Mark’s life—the heroes, the tech, the latest mess Baekhyun had created for his loving, mildly exasperated husband to fix. He knew about the bruises Mark had always been hiding, the aches and stresses he’d kept quiet about. But, it hadn’t changed things the way Hendery thought it would—thought it _should’ve_ , really, considering he was an idiot who had an entire _archive_ of curated Spider-Man photos that he’d accidentally let Mark see.

So, yeah, it was easy. Mark was Mark, even if he was also Spider-Man.

And then, something would happen to slam the reality of it all—the truth and fear of loving a hero—right back into Hendery’s face.

🕸️

It was supposed to be a chill summer spent in the city, acting as an RA, taking a class or two for credits that would put them both one step closer to graduating early. A way for Mark to stay in the city he was becoming emblematic of, and not have to pay rent or stay with his cousin—now a freshman at their college.

It was supposed to be fun. Most of their friend group had elected to stay in the city or visit, and Hendery had compiled a list of things he wanted to do with Mark, restaurants he wanted to eat at, cheap concerts he thought they’d both enjoy quietly lined up.

It was supposed to be a chance for Hendery to _get somewhere_ , to flirt with Mark and not just pine.

It was supposed to be a lot of things. Everything, _anything_ but this.

“Run!” Dejun shouted, his grip on Hendery’s wrist white-knuckled and bruising. _“Run!”_

They sprinted down a side street, Yangyang in the lead, the terrified screams of hundreds echoing off the buildings around them. Lucas, who could easily outpace any of them, was bringing up the rear of their small group, a hand unconsciously hovering near Donghyuck’s back, ready to help if anyone tripped or fell.

Any other day—any other situation—they would’ve been playfully teasing Lucas, and only Lucas, about that type of lingering attention (because Mark’s cousin was actually kind of terrifying). Any other day, it’d be an opportunity for fun.

Any other day.

A step ahead, Yangyang stumbled, yelping. Renjun and Jeno, reacting quick, caught him by his arm and the back of his hoodie, hauling him upright before he could fall.

Hendery, heart in his throat and adrenaline rushing through his body like a flood, watched as Jeno shared a quick, grim look with a wild-eyed Renjun, understanding passing between them. They’d seen how Yangyang’s ankle had rolled, knew that it hurt from the grimace that flashed across Yangyang’s face with every pounding step.

If it gave...

From Hendery’s side, Jaemin, the last of their little group, sped up, positioning himself close enough that if Yangyang _did_ go down, he’d be there to pull him up again.

The vice closing around Hendery’s chest eased a fraction.

Right. They had each other, right now. All they had to do was keep moving.

An explosion rocked the ground under their feet, the cacophony of concrete, steel, and glass being destroyed drowning out the shockwave that immediately followed.

Shouts of fear and alarm surged up around them.

Hendery twisted his neck to look over his shoulder, back in the direction of the explosion, the fight.

 _Mark_.

Dejun’s hand tightened around his wrist, pulling him along, urging Hendery to keep up.

Hendery’s mind was half there, though, and half back with the hero fighting for them—with Mark, who he’d seen get flung through a building, Mark who’d gone crashing to the hard, unforgiving pavement, Mark who’d gotten back up and told them to run.

( _“Run! Don’t look back, just run!”_ )

Hendery grit his teeth and forced his feet to move faster.

No one but him and Donghyuck knew who was under that mask right now amongst their group. The others just thought they’d gotten separated, too busy escaping the fight’s fallout—errant pumpkin-shaped bombs and cars being tossed like confetti—to question things.

 _You better make it back in one piece, Lee_ , Hendery thought, praying to every god he could think of, including the one amongst the Avengers, _I’ll be so fucking mad if you don’t_.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Renjun spat, breathing heavy, shirt soaked through with sweat like everyone else’s. “We need to get off the streets! Find somewhere to hide!”

“Where?” Dejun demanded, voice cracking from stress and exertion, dark brows furrowed from the effort of keeping up with their hard pace. “While there’s fighting going on, nowhere above ground is safe!”

 _Because villains and heroes alike could smash through buildings like paper_.

“Dawn’s Deli on 50th!”

“What?” Jaemin called back, tossing a quick look over his shoulder.

Hendery and Dejun did the same. Donghyuck looked straight at Hendery, a sharp glint in his eyes, then repeated, with meaning: “ _Dawn’s Deli on 50th_.”

( _“There’s a bunch of bunkers and safe spots built all over the city,” Mark said, a map laid out on their dorm room floor, Hendery and Donghyuck squished close on either side, looking down at the complex city plan with awe-wide eyes. “If anything happens, get to one of them until things calm down.” Mark smiled then, turning to look over at Hendery, bringing a rush of heat flooding up to pool in Hendery’s cheeks. “Once it’s safe, I’ll come find you, I promise.”_ )

Understanding and a flash of hope sparked in Hendery’s chest, catching like an ember in a pile of dry leaves.

“Right,” he said, breaking Dejun’s grip on his wrist and sucking in a thick lungful of sour, fear dampened air before moving to take the lead. He did a quick calculation of where they were, what street they’d passed last—44th? No, 47th, that was three blocks, they could make it. Then, shouting loud enough so they could all hear: “Dawn’s Deli on 50th!”

He led them on a mad dash, weaving between other running bodies and turning back onto the main street, taking the shortest route he knew to the nearest Avengers installed bunker.

They were almost there, the reinforced glass-like material of the storefront and glowing neon open sign in sight, when the fighting caught up to them with a bang and a blast.

It happened too fast for Hendery to track—a hulking green blur zipping by, seemingly thrown, and a smaller red and blue figure being yanked along by a thick line of nearly indestructible webbing.

Green Goblin—much more terrifying in person compared to fast moving news clips and shaky phone-taken videos—hit the ground first, crashing into cars that had been abandoned in favor of evacuating to safety, glass and metal crunching under his weight, a wave of frightened screams rising up. His muscles, bulging oddly from what Hendery could only imagine was a science experiment gone wrong, provided a cushion to his fall that he didn’t deserve.

Mark...Mark landed harder.

Hendery’s heart all but stopped seeing Mark get slung into the blanket of cars covering the street, body bouncing hard off the first impact, skipping over car hoods like a pebble over water, limbs limp as he went.

He eventually stopped out of sight, the loud _poof_ of shattering windshield glass signalling the final halt of his momentum.

Next to Hendery, Donghyuck let out a broken whimper, hand reaching out to clasp onto Hendery’s in a vice-like grip.

“He’s okay,” Hendery said, voice shaking, ice filling his chest. “He—he has to be.”

“Holy shit,” Lucas whispered, the crowd around them equally frozen in place, everyone packed together and sweating but too scared to care. They watched, some people muffling frightened sobs behind their hands, as Doc Ock came into view, long, powerful metal arms crushing everything they stepped on. “Holy _shit_.”

Green Goblin struggled to his feet, teeth bared and eyes glowing a toxic yellow. The workings of Doc Ock’s metal arms whirred. Further down, almost too far to see, Mark pulled himself up onto the roof of a car.

The crowd cheered.

For what, Hendery wasn’t sure. Mark didn’t look steady on his feet, and he had a hand pressed over his ribs on his left side. He looked like he was hurting. He looked like it was taking more effort than it should have to stay standing.

He looked like he needed help.

Absently, as he watched, unable and unwilling to look away, Hendery thought about how _different_ it was to see a hero fight in person, rather than on TV or on his computer with only the highlights being played back.

How much worse it was when you knew the person under the mask, getting smashed into the ground or thrown into buildings. When you loved them, and could do nothing to help but watch in abject horror, knowing that this— _all of it_ —was somehow _normal_ for them.

But then Mark was straightening up and squaring his shoulders, hands at his sides curled into determined fists. He wasn’t particularly tall, and he wasn’t particularly big or bulky, but the way he looked standing there, the figure he cut, had everyone caught in the position of spectator holding their breath.

Hope unfurled in Hendery’s chest like a flower.

The villains shouted something Hendery couldn’t catch. Mark must have said something in return, because both villains visibly tensed.

From off to the side, a small child shouted, breaking the growing silence.

“Get ‘em Spider-Man!”

Doc Ock turned towards the young voice, and Mark moved.

He shot out webs with quick flicks of his wrists, aiming for the arms Doc Ock was using for support and one of Green Goblin’s hands in rapid succession. The villains tried to rear back, but Mark had demonstrated how effective his web formula was to Hendery once before, and, instead of pulling Mark off his feet or snapping the webbing, all it did was give Mark some needed leverage to haul them back in with a full body twist and shout.

Both villains went flying, Mark so much _more_ than he looked, all superpowered strength hidden in compact muscle.

From there it was chaos all over again.

Some people ran, some people stayed, cheering loudly in the defiant way New Yorker’s did now where superhero fights were concerned—accustomed to the mayhem, the faith in their heroes strong.

Hendery froze.

The fight was between them and the bunker they’d been running towards. Despite that, the unassuming deli was still the safest place to hide, what with how mobile the battle going down had proven itself to be.

 _Do we go? Do we try?_ Hendery bit his lip, indecision and stress anchoring him in place like lead weights. _Fuck, what should we—_

Donghyuck’s hand, still fastened tight around his, squeezed. “We can make it.”

Hendery looked at him, some of their group hearing and doing the same, others still staring in wide-eyed shock as Mark— _Spider-Man_ , the city’s youngest hero—did his all, fighting with a sort of vicious efficiency Hendery had never seen before.

A muscle jumped in Donghyuck’s jaw, his eyes glittering with the same fire-like determination Hendery had seen reflected in Mark’s eyes before. The same sort of stubborn bravery. Evidently a family trait; one Hendery both appreciated and feared.

“If we run now,” Donghyuck shouted, the noise around them hard to hear over, “and stay around others escaping, we can make it to the bunker!”

“In case you didn’t notice,” Dejun started, voice raised to be heard, “there’s a whole two villains trashing shit between us and that shop you wanted us to go to! How the fuck are we supposed to ‘ _make it’?_ ”

“Stay in the crowd,” Lucas interjected, brows furrowed, gaze focused on the street they’d have to sprint across and the people scrambling for cover. “Stick to the crowd and move fast, hide behind cars if we have to.” He looked over their group, meeting Donghyuck’s eyes briefly before flicking his focus to Dejun, rolling his shoulders to stand at his full height, doing his best to project confidence for the sake of their group. “He’s right, we can make it.”

“Fuck,” Dejun groaned, rubbing a shaking hand over his face, all of them startling when a loud crash landed too close for comfort—a car, that had been tossed like a crumpled paper ball, wheels up and frame crunched. “ _Fuck!_ Fine, okay, _fine_ , let’s do this. Let’s go!”

The mad dash to the happy looking, still undamaged deli front was the most stressful experience of Hendery’s life, and, at this point, that was saying something. He’d almost fallen down an elevator shaft, elevator car and all. He’d let Mark swing him over New York’s streets, Hendery dressed in an older model spider suit. This—ducking and dodging flying debris, occasionally having to catch yourself as terrified people bumped into you, or the ground shook from a stray explosion— _this_ , easily outmatched all of that.

They did it, though. They made it, crashing into each other from a second of adrenaline fueled confusion when Hendery collided with the door and it didn’t open under his hands right away, his shoulder taking the brunt of the sudden stop.

“Fuck, hold on, lemme just—Hendery Wong, authorization code 07-2!”

A lilting female voice said, “Access approved,” and the door finally swung open, their whole crew piling in with garbled grunts of startled exclamation.

Once Lucas and Jaemin had stumbled in, the door automatically closed up again, locks reactivating with a soft _snick!_

Now that they were inside, air conditioning cooling the sweat that had collected on their skin, the fight outside was muffled, whatever the windows were made of doing their job and doing it well.

Hendery dropped to an exhausted crouch, combing through his sweat damp hair, trying to catch his breath and still the tremors reverberating through his hands. Yangyang was lowered down next to him by Jeno and Jaemin, wincing lightly when his ankle was jostled a bit.

Dejun followed, his whole body drooping down between the two of them with a shaking sigh.

“I’m not gonna ask right now,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, “but when this is done, you _are_ gonna tell us why you and Donghyuck know about a _password accessed deli_ with _reinforced windows_ in the middle of the city.”

Hendery tossed a look over his shoulder to where Donghyuck was pressed against the glass-not-glass, watching the fight raging on with a sharp sort of concentration. His own eyes caught on Mark’s quick moving figure darting around in the distance, sling-shotting himself into the villains with hard, jarring attacks before nimbly leaping away. Hendery found himself unable to look away, brain to mouth coordination dropping while he tried to answer Dejun’s statement and pressing stare.

“I—yeah, it’s really...complicated, but, yeah. I’ll...try.”

An explosion rocked the whole building the deli was connected to, the sound more of a rumble to them thanks to whatever the “store” had been constructed with. A cloud of dust and debris blasted past the windows, drawing all their attention like a magnet, the tension in the otherwise empty deli front tightening like a strung bow.

“What just happened?” Renjun asked, frowning from where he’d knelt down to look over Yangyang’s ankle.

“Something blew up,” Jaemin said, also pressed up against the window, Lucas next to him standing on his tip-toes as if that would help him see through the dense, vaguely orange-green smoke any better.

“No shit,” Renjun deadpanned. “ _What_ blew up?”

“Uh, I think Spider-Man wrapped Doc Ock and Green Goblin up, then strapped them with a bunch of Goblin’s bombs,” Jeno said, squinting, standing near Donghyuck, “and then the bombs kind of...well, exploded.”

Hearing that, Hendery’s heart dropped. Over by the windows, he saw Donghyuck’s hands curl into white-knuckled fists.

Not seeming to notice the shift in Hendery and Donghyuck’s expressions—and not having a reason to think they were worried for anything beyond their own safety in the first place—Yangyang snorted. “Yeah, like bombs do.”

It was said without much thought. Yangyang joked around when he was nervous. That’s it. They all knew that.

It didn’t stop Donghyuck from twisting around to shoot him a quick glare and a sharp, “Shut it, Liu!” though.

Yangyang looked over at him, eyes wide, brows raised, holding his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, chill, dude.”

“ _Chill?_ You—”

“Donghyuck,” Hendery cut in. “He didn’t mean anything by it. Let it go.”

 _I’m worried, too,_ he thought at him, willing Donghyuck to get it, to understand. _But no one else knows who’s fighting under that mask right now. No one else knows._

Donghyuck grit his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping, flashing Hendery a quick look before begrudgingly turning back to stare anxiously out at the sea of smoke.

“I think it took them down,” Jaemin suddenly said, speaking into the stilted awkwardness that was forming, his gaze fastened on the settling dust. “The villains, I mean. I think they’re out. It wouldn’t be this... _quiet_ otherwise, right?”

Hendery pressed his lips in a line. 

Jaemin was right. It _wouldn’t_ be this quiet otherwise. It didn’t mean they could move, though, because, if he was wrong, then danger was still lurking outside, waiting for the first hapless idiot who decided to poke their head out.

All they could really do was wait. 

Wait for the first sound that would break the current stillness. Wait for _who_ would break it. 

Hendery held his breath, listening for the slide of rubble being shifted. The low murmur of pained groans. The whir of machinery, or the piercing echo of shouts—anything, good _or_ bad, the silence outside turning suffocating, the thickness of it all only disturbed by the low hum of the deli’s air conditioning and the thundering beat of Hendery’s own pulse rushing loudly in his ears.

A minute passed, two, three. Lucas eyed the door handle, fingers tapping against his thigh. Jaemin was watching the smoke that was still blowing past, refusing to settle or dissipate. Next to Hendery, Dejun opened his mouth, brows furrowed and about to say something, when…

_Thunk!_

A hand slapped against the deli’s door, their whole group shouting in alarm, Lucas, Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck all jumping in their skin and startling away.

The hand quickly became a form, and then a full body, though, red and blue and a familiar mask peeking out from a thick layer of dust as a muffled voice spoke, the bunker’s security system beeping in greeting while everyone’s eyes grew noticeably wider.

Well, almost everybody’s.

“Holy fuck,” Lucas breathed.

Dejun’s jaw dropped, blinking rapidly as the door swung open. “Is that…”

Yangyang was beaming. “Holy shit, Spider-Man!”

“Uh, haha,” Mark, his mask lenses curving slightly, gave an awkward wave. “Hi, uh, I, uh, saw you guys run in here and just, um, wanted to make sure you were, you know, safe.” He cleared his throat, winced, and then promptly started coughing. Donghyuck stared at him like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hit his cousin or hug him, and Hendery...Hendery felt like something inside him had given out. “So, uh, are you guys alright?”

Hendery stood.

“Yeah,” Jaemin started, blinking, a bit bemused, “we’re—”

“You scared the shit out of me, you ass,” Donghyuck huffed, shoving hard at Mark’s shoulder, eyes watering.

Hendery took a shaky step, legs feeling like jelly, heart thudding hard in his chest.

The others made odd noises of startled confusion, staring at Donghyuck like he’d grown an extra head, not understanding why he’d just _pushed a famous hero_ —and definitely not minding Hendery and the daze he’d slipped into—when Mark whined back, pulling off his mask with a frustrated yank to a chorus of sharp, wholly shocked gasps.

“Ow, what the fuck, Hyuck, that actually hur—”

Hendery moved all at once, then, mind blanking as he stumbled forward, tackling into Mark, his hands going up to cup Mark’s cheeks of their own accord.

Mark let out a soft _oof_ on impact, eyes wide with a flash of startled concern before he seemed to notice that Hendery’s forward momentum hadn’t stopped, that he was still falling into him, their faces getting closer until Mark’s eyes—impossibly round as he realized what Hendery was about to do—finally blurred out of Hendery’s vision entirely.

Kissing Mark, contrary to what Hendery had imagined, didn’t come with fireworks or a riot of butterflies exploding in his chest. Instead, it came with a feeling of bone-deep completion. The warmth of coming home. The sense that everything was just _right_. And, when Mark kissed back, brain seeming to finally have caught up to the moment, hands fisting in the back of Hendery’s shirt as he cradled him close, it felt a lot like love.

Thoughts started filtering and forming in Hendery’s mind again just as Mark tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and he realized two things in rapid succession: one, some of their friends were making very concerning gurgling noises while others were happily egging them on, whistling and taking pictures, the shutters of phone cameras going off, and two, after two years of impeccable self-control, he’d gone and practically pounced on Mark like a starved animal.

“Shit,” he said, breaking the kiss and leaning back, unconsciously pushing at Mark’s chest with one hand while he covered his mouth with the other. His ears and neck were burning, the heat spilling over onto his cheeks, staining them a vibrant pink. “ _Shit_ , I’m—fuck, uh, I was just—you had me scared for a second there and I—I’m sorry—I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mark laughed, his cheeks flushed, his ears tipped with a healthy dusting of pink verging on red. He looked at Hendery with something like awe, eyes glittering under the deli’s fluorescents, hands firm at Hendery’s back, not allowing Hendery room to melt away in embarrassment like he wanted to do. “Breathe, you’re fine, you—I like you too.”

Off to the side, Donghyuck fake gagged while Lucas and Dejun snickered like the horrible people they were.

“God, seriously? This is what it took for you two to finally get your shit together? Ugh, I’m done.” Donghyuck made his way to the door. “Since the villains are toast and you’re alive I’m gonna be waiting outside. Come get me when you’re done making out.”

“He’s just jealous,” Mark whispered, flashing Hendery a smile that had his breath catching in his throat.

“I heard that!”

Lucas followed Donghyuck out, tossing the two of them a cheeky grin as he went. Dejun, rubbing his forehead with a put-upon sigh, joined them, looking between Hendery and Mark when he passed by, telling them, “You know you have a lot to explain after this, right?”

Mark cleared his throat, giving Dejun a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I know.”

“That goes for you, too, Hen!” Lucas called out. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

Hendery groaned. Mark frowned, clearly trying to decide if he was the hoe in this situation but looking offended all the same. “Hey!”

Jaemin and Jeno went next, Yangyang propped up between them with Renjun bringing up the rear, a hand at Yangyang’s back as he hobbled along.

“Try and wrap things up quickly, before news crews come and people get curious about where Spider-Man went,” Renjun said. Then, almost like an afterthought. “And you’re buying us dinner, Mark. As a tax.”

“A Secret-Keeper’s Tax,” Jaemin grinned, Jeno and Yangyang barking out shouts of laughter at Mark’s put-out expression.

“I don’t have _that_ much money,” Mark huffed, the complaint punctuated by the deli door closing, ultimately falling on deaf ears.

Left in true silence with a modicum of pseudo-privacy, Hendery was finally able to fully process what Mark had said.

He turned to look at him, somehow a little disbelieving despite the hands still resting at the small of his back. Mark hadn’t let go of him once so far.

“You actually like me?” Hendery asked, wanting to hear Mark say it again now that they were alone, no prying eyes waiting to tease.

Mark cleared his throat, ducked his head, shifted on his feet, fidgeting, looking nervous and precious. His skin was littered with blooming bruises, the arch of his eyebrow split with a crusted over cut. Mark’s super suit was ripped in a few places, torn skin underneath no longer bleeding, in a similar state to the few scrapes dotting his face. It looked like it should hurt, probably did hurt, but here he was, standing in front of Hendery, battered and beautiful and looking like he was one second away from bolting like a skittish rabbit.

Hendery snorted lightly. “You just unmasked yourself in front of all our friends and this is when you get all nervy?”

_You kissed me but saying ‘I like you’ again trips you up?_

Mark huffed out a laugh, roughing a hand through his oddly flattened down hair, leaving the strands sticking up every which way. “Fair.” He looked up at Hendery from under his lashes. Hendery had never really appreciated how similar they were in height before, but right now he was tremendously thankful for it. It gave Mark very little space to hide the emotions playing out across his face. “Dude, of course I like you.” When Hendery laughed, loud and sudden, Mark pinched his waist, his whole face going red. “I’m trying to be serious here. I just—” he cut himself off, nibbling on his lip, tongue darting out to unconsciously poke at the cut splitting the corner. “How could I not like you?”

 _Oh god_. Hendery made a strangled noise high in his throat. _Jesus fucking Christ_.

“See,” Hendery started, voice weak, feeling helpless against the waves of fondness rolling over him for the man in front of him, “it’s not fair that you get to say ‘dude’ while confessing and still somehow be smooth.”

“Shut up,” Mark grumbled, hands still flexing nervously at Hendery’s back.

Hendery laughed, unable to stop himself, leaning in again ever-so-slightly. Mark’s eyes zeroed in on the motion, snapping down to Hendery’s mouth. Entirely unsubtle, and extraordinarily exhilarating, sending a zip of excitement flashing hot and fierce down Hendery’s spine.

Hendery quirked a smile, raising an eyebrow in challenge, feeling giddy and _bold_. “Make me.”

Mark blinked, then grinned back, bright and just a little wild.

Their second kiss—all sweet intention and soft, pressing lips—was even better than their first.

🕸️

“Hey,” Hendery said, later, once Mark had handed off the villains to the proper authorities and changed back into normal clothes for dinner—soft, worn-in things that wouldn’t press on any lingering injuries.

“Hm?” Mark glanced up from the menu he’d been pouring over, straightening up in his seat from the curve he’d let his back curl into. “What’s up?”

Hendery laughed a little under his breath, happy and light, leaning closer so he wouldn’t need to speak over the chaos of their group chattering away and discussing what they wanted to order, the post-adrenaline rush from everything that had happened leaving them louder than usual. 

He was watching Mark’s face while he closed the distance between them, unable to pry his eyes away even if he wanted, and got to catch the way Mark’s eyes slipped down to his mouth before sliding back up again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I was thinking,” Hendery started, pressing their shoulders together, firm and warm, “since we can, now, maybe we could...try a few things?”

Hendery could see the gears in Mark’s brain trying to turn but promptly short-circuiting, his ears rapidly turning red from the path his thoughts were clearly tumbling down.

“Like what?” he asked, voice dipping a few octaves, cracking _just_ a bit at the end.

“I don’t know,” Hendery shrugged, smiling. “Just. Things.”

Mark snorted, eyes alight with the same type of playful excitement Hendery could feel sparking along his nerves, leaving a tingling path in its wake that went all the way down to his fingers and toes.

“Sure,” he said, leaning in quick to steal a kiss—sweet and chaste. “I’d be down for ‘trying some things’.”

“Great. We’re starting with making out while you hang upside down in your super suit.”

“Wait...why?”

Hendery patted Mark’s thigh, a little—or a lot—higher than he would’ve before, smiling winsomely. “You’ll see.”


	4. Interlude: Summer, Junior Year to Senior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think we need a guest room, though.”
> 
> Mark looked up at him, frowning slightly in thought. “What about if someone wants to spend the night, or needs to crash after a night out?”
> 
> Hendery snorted, chest filling with a warm, gooey fondness at the expression painting Mark’s face and the fact that he was so concerned about others’ comfort. “The only people who’d be doing that are our friends, and they can sleep on the couch.” He paused, tilted his head, picked up another printed out apartment listing. “Unless we go with the studio. Then they can sleep on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [neopunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neopunch/pseuds/neopunch)
> 
> Happy Birthday!! Thank you so much for commissioning me, I hope you enjoy!! .◜◡◝
> 
> Some sweet house hunting domesticity from the boys~

“I don’t mind having to walk a little more to get to campus if it means we have a bigger bedroom,” Hendery said, pushing up his glasses from where they’d slipped down his nose. 

“That place only has one bathroom, though,” Mark sighed, frowning down at the notes they’d taken on an apartment listing print-out for a nice little place with a spacious, well-lit bedroom. “It doesn’t have a guest room either.”

Hendery pursed his lips, tapping his pen against the table they’d set themselves up at in the cafe they’d wandered into for airconditioning and a light lunch.

“I don’t think we need a guest room, though.”

Mark looked up at him, frowning slightly in thought. “What about if someone wants to spend the night, or needs to crash after a night out?”

Hendery snorted, chest filling with a warm, gooey fondness at the expression painting Mark’s face and the fact that he was so concerned about others’ comfort. “The only people who’d be doing that are our friends, and they can sleep on the couch.” He paused, tilted his head, picked up another printed out apartment listing. “Unless we go with the studio. Then they can sleep on the floor.”

Mark huffed out a laugh, nose scrunching, his eyes curving up into crescents. Under the table, Hendery felt Mark’s ankle brush his as it slid back a bit from where their legs were tangled together, his foot knocking lightly and purposely against Hendery’s in a way that had a bright burst of sensation lurching in his stomach. “Even if we go with the studio we should still get a couch,” he mumbled.

Hendery grinned. “Sure.” He slurped down the remainder of his iced coffee, getting more melted ice than actual caffeine. “Where our friends can crash still isn’t deciding what place we settle on, though.”

Mark laughed around the last bite of the croissant he’d gotten, licking the flaky crumbs off his fingers and smirking when he caught Hendery’s gaze fastening on the technically benign action.

Mark’s tongue was just so _pink_ and Hendery was but a mere weak mortal, with simple human desires.

“You’re right,” he said. “The place with the big bedroom is a maybe, then?”

“Definitely a maybe.”

🕸️

Hendery and Mark were using the summer before their senior year of college to find a new apartment; one they could calmly choose instead of being forced into finding due to...unforeseen incidents.

( _“How was_ I _supposed to know the new webbing I was testing out would explode?” Mark hissed, keeping his voice down while they stood outside in the brisk evening air, him and Hendery huddled close amongst the crowd of disgruntled students, all watching the firemen filtering in and out of the dorm with mild interest._

 _“It didn’t just_ explode! _” Hendery whispered right back, pressing firmly into Mark’s side, trying to steal some of his body heat. “It exploded, caught fire, and then_ melted straight through to the ground floor! _”_

 _“Well,” Mark floundered a bit. “That doesn’t change the fact that it was an accident!”_ )

It was hot, sweaty work, the city in the summer doing its best to melt them down into puddles on the pavement. They’d walk around, looking at two or three listings in a day before either snagging something to eat or picking up groceries to cook back at the small Airbnb they were staying at. By the time they were back at their temporary home, Hendery would be soaked through with sweat, his jeans sticking uncomfortably to his legs and his shirt heavy with damp.

Mark, dressed similarly and not faring much better, would faceplant on the little couch the apartment had and stay like that until he cooled down enough to haul himself up to join ( _“Interrupt,” Hendery huffed. “This is interrupting._ ”) Hendery in the shower.

It was exhausting having to trek everywhere only to walk away having decided that a place was too cramped or the kitchen was too old, but the part of Hendery that thrived from doing anything vaguely domestic with his boyfriend was absolutely _living_.

“I like this one,” Hendery said, sidling close while Mark surveyed the apartment they were currently looking at, casually slipping his hand into the back pocket of Mark’s jeans while he rested his chin on the curve of Mark’s shoulder. “It feels...homey.”

“Mm,” Mark hummed, brows furrowed, thinking, body naturally sinking back to meet Hendery’s chest. “It’s got a nice living room area.”

“Good windows too, lots of light,” Hendery added. “ _And_ a big bedroom, with space for a work desk and all our stuff. It _is_ a little out of our range, though...”

Mark sighed out his nose. “Location-wise it’s between campus and my aunt’s place. And I have my internship with Stark Industries officially, so I’ll have more access to the money Baekhyun hyung’s been stockpiling for me.” He turned, dislodging Hendery for a moment before reeling him back in with his arms slung loose around Hendery’s waist. “It’s definitely doable. If we want it, that is.”

Hendery snorted. The most dangerous thing about Mark, in Hendery’s opinion, was how ready he was to accommodate, how willing he was to give.

_Too good for his own good._

Leaning in, Hendery placed a quick kiss to the corner of Mark’s mouth. “We can think about it. No need to bust out the big bucks just yet.” He stepped backwards, tugging Mark along with him. “Come on, we have another place to look at on the list for today.”

“Okay,” Mark said, casting one last glance at the apartment—all soft, pale wood floors bathed in warm sunlight, and large, well-sealed windows—before they left. “Where next?”

🕸️

“What if we just get Baekhyun hyung to find us a place to live?” Mark groaned, draped over the kitchen island in an apartment with pale yellow walls and an odd, whistling draft. “Like, he has good taste,” he continued. “A bit...or very, expensive, but like, still good.”

Hendery snorted, running a hand over the walls and eyeing what looked like a faint water stain on the ceiling. “Anything he picks will be way out of our range.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, pressing his cheek to the cool tile of the kitchen island, “but he’d probably also end up paying for it. Like a sugar daddy. Because he has _way_ too much money and not enough people to spend it on.”

Hendery barked out a sharp burst of laughter, coming to stand in front of where Mark’s hands dropped over the opposite side of the counter, shivering lightly when Mark reached out to twist his fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

“I’d like to live somewhere we can afford on our own.” He leaned forward onto his forearms, smiling at Mark who’d raised his head to prop his chin on the countertop, lips pushed into a pout from the strain and angle. “We can get a fancy penthouse later, if we want.”

Mark slid his arms back to his side of the kitchen island, pushing himself into an upright position with a groan. He looked at Hendery, dark eyes glittering with all the stars they held, considering. Then he smiled, soft and sweet. Every bit the handsome boy-next-door.

“Thinking that far into the future, huh?”

“Mark,” Hendery said, as seriously as he could. “I let you talk me into dying my hair pink. This is _commitment_.”

“It looks cute on you, though! You said you liked it!”

“My mom nearly had a heart attack!” Hendery smacked the counter top for emphasis. “Co-mmit-ment.”

Mark rolled his eyes, ears turning pink, smile curling up into something pleased. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, wiping away a stray bead of sweat that had trailed down from his hairline.

“I just—I know me being a hero doesn’t make things...easy.”

Hendery snorted, the sound entirely unattractive but Mark had quite literally seen worse so he couldn’t care less. “Being with you is the easiest thing in the world, stressful superheroing and all.” His smile turned a touch lopsided. “Accept it, you’re stuck with me, Lee.”

Mark’s eyes went wide for a beat, and then he was positively _beaming_ , a helpless chuckle working its way out of his chest. “Lucky me.”

🕸️

“So, we whittled it down to these three, right?” Mark asked, holding up three crinkled pieces of paper, each covered in both Mark’s slightly slanted scrawl and Hendery’s looser handwriting.

Hendery hummed, cheek smushed against Mark’s chest where he was laying over him like a weighted blanket, pressing him into the couch of their temporary home, legs tangled together and one of Mark’s hands coming down to card gently through his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp.

“And your favorite is the one with the windows and wood floors, right?”

Hendery hummed again, adjusting himself slightly, squirming over an obliging Mark until he found a more comfortable position, nose tucked into the hollow of Mark’s throat.

“‘S right.”

“The studio has stronger walls, though.”

Hendery huffed out a sleepily amused puff of air. “It doesn’t matter how strong the walls are, you aren’t using your webbing formula on them. We’ve already learned from that. Multiple times.”

Under him, Mark snorted, the sound felt more than heard. “Fine. Fair.” The fingers in Hendery’s hair pulled softly at a handful of strands, sending pleasant tingles tumbling down Hendery’s spine in ripples, startling a low sound out of his throat. When Mark spoke, he could hear a smile in it. “Your roots are starting to show. Are you gonna let it grow out?”

“Dunno,” Hendery mumbled, absently trying to swat at Mark’s hand, hoping to keep him from tugging at his hair again. “Kinda wanted to keep the pink for a while.”

Mark was definitely smiling, now, deftly deflecting Hendery’s hand and pulling gently at his hair each time he dragged his fingers through, humming happily when he managed to draw out a louder whine. “I like the pink.”

“I know,” Hendery grunted, tingles turning into sparks turning into a low burning flame. He pushed himself up just enough to level an accusing look at Mark. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Mark grinned, utterly shameless. “Yup.”

“Mark.”

“Hendery.”

A sharper tug this time, with just enough force to pull Hendery’s head back and arch his neck. He groaned, eyes fluttering closed. “These walls a really fucking thin,” he warned.

Mark shrugged, expression edging into a smirk, absolutely setting Hendery’s blood on _fire_. “Then we just have to be quiet.”

Hendery made a noise of distress, muscles tensing, the flame in his belly slowly growing in size, spreading up to his chest and down towards his limbs. “We’re gonna have such a bad rating if the neighbors complain. We’ll never get an Airbnb again. And we’re still gonna have to pick a place. This doesn’t change that, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mark said. “I think we could both use a break, though.”

“I—yeah, okay,” Hendery breathed. “A break would be nice.”

🕸️

“Where are you?” Hendery asked into the phone, standing outside the apartment with the soft wood floors and the large windows—still his personal favorite amongst the places they’d narrowed their list down to, even after two months of searching. He scratched absently at the heavy wood door, nail sliding harmlessly over the varnish. “I thought you said to meet you here.”

 _“Sorry,”_ Mark said on the other side of the call, a little breathless, _“I got caught up in an attempted bank robbery, I should be there in a minute.”_

Hendery frowned, scuffing the toe of his worn-down converse against the hallway floor. “Is everything okay? Are you safe?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Mark said, the honking of car horns and happy calls of _‘Spider-Man!’_ sounding in the background. _“I’m fine. No one was hurt, not even the wannabe robbers.”_

Hendery smiled. “Good. Want me to wait for you then?”

 _“Uhhh,”_ Mark paused, cursing lightly under his breath about aggressive pigeons before continuing again. _“Nah, it’s fine, you have the key I left in the kitchen this morning, right?”_

“Yeah,” Hendery said, fishing it out of his pocket, eyeing it with one part suspicion two parts curiosity. “Why?”

_“You can go in ahead of me, then.”_

Hendery paused. “It’s the key to the apartment?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Why do you—did you stop by the realtor this morning?”

_“Yeah. Just go in, Hen, I’ll be there in a minute.”_

Vaguely bemused, Hendery squished the phone between his ear and shoulder and got the door open, making sure to close it behind himself and lock it if Mark was going to be showing up in full spidey gear—just in case the universe decided to be funny and someone else happened to stop by to look at the place while they were there.

“So, why am I—”

Hendery, having walked down the short entranceway into the main living room space, came to a startled stop. 

Hanging from the ceiling was a neon colored banner with ‘WELCOME HOME’ in big, bright, block letters, and next to it—also hanging—was an equally bright Mark.

“Oh.”

Mark moved one hand from its hold on his webbing, holding his arm out and waggling his fingers. “Surprise!”

“I—is this...” Hendery licked his lips, ending the call that was still going and putting away his phone. “Is this what I think it is?”

“I went by the realtor’s this morning,” Mark said, again, smiling wide, practically vibrating with excitement as he watched Hendery approach.

“You—so, this _is_ what I think it is.”

Mark swung a little, too giddy to stay still, that energy spreading, filling the room and humming in Hendery’s bones. “It’s ours.”

“I thought you liked the studio with the sturdy walls,” Hendery said, bringing his hands up to cup Mark’s cheeks when he was close enough.

Mark shrugged. “Sure, but I like you more.”

Hendery groaned and Mark laughed. “You’re so fucking cheesy.” 

“And yet you love me anyway,” Mark smiled, tilting his head forward, grinning when Hendery met him in the middle for a slow, deep kiss.

Hendery sighed when they parted, so stupidly enamoured with the hero in front of him. “Yeah, I guess I—”

Before he could finish, there was a low crack, the only warning they got before Mark was dropping to the ground with a startled yelp, Hendery just barely jumping back in time to dodge flailing limbs and falling bits of ceiling debris.

There was a moment of stunned silence where Hendery looked down at Mark, whose eyes were the size of saucers, then up at the ceiling—where a patch of plaster was now missing—and then back down at Mark, lying on the floor, his spidey suit dusted in a fine layer of white.

A second passed. Two. Then:

“Aha! See!” he pointed, feeling wholly vindicated. “I told you your webbing shouldn’t be used on normal things!”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, kudos/comments/bookmarks are greatly appreciated!! And as usual, if you want to say 'hi', feel free to come and find me on twitter. I'm @nu_exooo.


End file.
